Fright Of Your Life
by Mulan 11
Summary: Dean and Sam leave Chicago in a hurry after their meeting with Meg, only to find themselves in the middle of a murder mystery. They soon realise memories and an overactive imagination can kill and they are next.
1. Chapter 1: Found

_Hiya guys._

So I finally got around to posting my new fic lol. This started off as a totally original fic using a character I had made up in another fic cos I liked her. However looking back at it, I guess it can be considered a kind of sequel to Witch Trials which is also somewhere around here. But you don't have to have read Witch Trials to read this one as its pretty self explanatory. There are just a few references here and there that link back to the other one. Just to let you guys know if you come across a couple of random references and injokes and think what the ...

I hope you enjoy. Please leave a review as all criticism is much appreciated. Thanks.

**Fear**

**Chapter 1: - Found.**

It had taken her nearly two months to track him down. Countless messages left on his mobile and calls to his contacts and friends, had failed to raise a response until finally she had received that long awaited phone call.

She leant against her red '67 Chevy Camaro in the overwhelming darkness, shivering in the chill night air. She looked up at the tired roadside diner, her breath catching in the back of her throat. She'd been waiting for this for so long that she could hardly think of all she wanted, _needed_ to ask.

Forcing herself away from the car, she hurried across the parking lot before her courage failed her. Leaning her weight against the door, she slid inside, her eyes instinctively flitting over the numerous customers, trying to find him out.

At last her eyes fell on him, his dark messy hair camouflaging his rugged weather-beaten face. He sat, his head turned away from the rest of the diner, blending in with the old sun-bleached furniture.

Even though she had never seen his face she knew it was him. His slouch, his aura and his appearance reminded her so much of his sons. Though he was seated, she could tell he was tall and well built, years of hunting making their mark on his body.

Slowly, she pushed her way through the furniture, fighting to get across the room. She smoothed a hand over her dark curly hair and pulled at her T-shirt and jeans nervously, self-consciously trying to make herself look more presentable.

As she neared the table, he turned, as if on instinct, and gave a nervous smile, taking in her whole appearance. Sliding into a seat opposite, she looked at him expectantly, looking into his eyes.

"Hi," she barely whispered, her courage failing her as he remained silent.

"Hi Alex. It's been a long time."

* * *

John had played the many messages she had left a hundred and one times. He knew she was desperate to find him, desperate to get some answers. He had sent his boys to help her and he knew this would be inevitable, but he had as yet failed to find the strength to meet her face to face, to look into her eyes, to see the spitting image of the women he once knew. But Dana was gone, leaving behind her daughter and a mountain of questions needing answers.

He'd finally built up the courage to ring, which was more than he'd done for his sons. He'd received Dean's messages after Jess had died and gotten Sam's after Dean had been electrocuted and suffered a massive heart attack, but hadn't so much as called. Call it instinct, stupidity or whatever you wanted, but he knew they would be okay without him. They had each other, which was more than Alex had.

Those three long rings had been torturous as he had waited for her to pick up the phone. What was seconds had felt like hours, but she had picked up and had waited for him to speak.

He now sat in a dingy diner somewhere in Missouri, he couldn't really remember where, waiting, wondering imagining what was about to happen, what he would do, what he would say. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten here. Whether he had driven, or whether he had walked.

* * *

Alex shifted uncomfortably in her seat as he continued to stare at her, taking in her appearance. Clearing her throat, she reached for the menu.

"So … umm … I've been trying to find you for months."

"Yes. I got your messages."

Alex looked at him, her eyebrow raised. "Really, so why didn't you get in touch before?"

John remained silent.

"Didn't you get the messages off Sam and Dean?" she pried, digging for a response. "They phoned you too. They found the picture of my mother in your journal, the information about us. They want to know everything about it as much as I do."

He shifted uncomfortably.

Changing tact, she asked, "Why won't you see them?"

John looked at her in surprise. It was a long time since someone was so blunt and honest with him without ceremony. "They're safer on their own," he grunted.

"Really?" Alex almost laughed bitterly. "We almost died."

"What is this? The Spanish Inquisition!" John scowled, his temper rising.

Alex shrugged pretending not to be bothered, but grinned inwardly having gouged the response she was after. After months of anxious waiting and wondering, a selfish desire to snipe at him had replaced the nervous anguish she had experienced just moments before. Sitting in front of him, her courage began to build. "Just seems a bit … I dunno, selfish to me," she said, looking into his eyes, begging him to respond. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips as she watched his cheeks flush pink and he began to twist his hands distractedly on the table. She wasn't going to let him get away with this so easily.

"Now listen missy, you don't even know me!" he said, trying to control his temper as he countered her steady gaze.

"Dean was right. You really don't want to be found do you!" Alex cut in, watching his pride falter.

"Dean said that?" John started, swallowing down the guilt which rose within him.

"Yeah," she nodded, as a waiter made his way towards them. "Him and Sam both."

John stared at her trying to work her out. "You're very confident of yourself."

Alex flushed. "No I'm not," she confided, her desire to hurt him, crumbling. "I was terrified of coming in here, but I kinda developed a talent for mind reading when your sons saved my life and you're not very difficult to read," she confessed, guilt flooding her heart.

"You're not like Sammy," John began in alarm.

Alex shrugged, concern etched across her face as she stared into his eyes.

"Don't," he muttered averting his gaze.

"Sorry," she whispered self-consciously. "I just wanna know the truth."

"Hi, can I get you anything?" the waiter said, as he finally reached their table.

"Just a coffee for me please," she smiled, closing the menu.

"Same," John replied. He waited until the waiter was out of earshot before continuing. "So what have you been doing since you left Covesville?"

"Searching for you … for answers."

"To what?"

"To who my father is. You knew my mum back then. Who was he?"

"Someone you really don't want to know," John sighed.

A tense silence filled the air between them, as Alex looked at him expectantly.

"You not going to elaborate," Alex said finally, desperation evident in her voice.

John shook his head. "Trust me on this."

"Hell no! You can't do that. I want to know. I _need_ to know. You can't … just tell me the truth … _please_!"

"Look its best you don't know," John tried, a note of pleading in his voice.

"I'm not one of your kids. You're not my drill sergeant, yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir!"

"Listen."

"No. I'm not scared of you. Just tell me the truth. _PLEASE!"_

John looked at her face, noting how the desperation creased the corners of her eyes and a solemn frown played upon her lips.

"Please don't play games with me. I've been lied to for eighteen years. I need to know the truth."

John let out an audible sigh. "Look, your father was … well different."

The waiter came back placing their coffees in front of them. "Can I get you-"

"No, nothing else," Alex butted in tartly. The waiter, looking taken aback stepped away from them, flushing.

"How do you mean different?" Alex asked nervously once he was gone.

John looked down intently at his coffee.

"Well?" she prompted, not liking the tense silence.

"You know about the things me and my boys hunt."

"From first hand experience, yes."

"Well, he was … he was a shapeshifter."

"A shapeshifter," Alex started, eyes wide in disbelief. "But … do they even exist?" She looked at him desperately as he followed her movements with a steady gaze. Her jaw dropped open in horror, as she stared at him unable to speak. _'But if John hunted them,'_ she thought, her mind slowly unfreezing as his words began to sink in, _'They must be …'_ "Evil," she whispered audibly.

"Excuse me?" he said, as he struggled to hear her. Leaning in, he looked at her scared eyes.

"Was he … Are they evil?" she managed, staring down intently at her cup of coffee, her earlier courage dying a quick and painful death.

"Not all. Your father was a good man."

"Was?" she said apprehensively, lifting her eyes to his.

"I met you mother whilst hunting a group of them nearly twenty years ago. Most of them were hurting or killing people, your father excluded. Stupid son of a bitch fell in love. I don't think it went down to well with the rest. He tried to protect her, but they were attacked, ambushed and he was dragged off, disappeared, most likely killed. Dana managed to escape; I helped her out of there. You came along six months later."

Alex sat numb in her seat. "Then what does that make me?" she muttered in a barely audible whisper. John slid his hand across the table taking hers in his. "You're human, and just like your mother."

"God what a screwed up family," she sighed with a watery smile, a heavy atmosphere settling between them.

"I think yours could rival mine," he grinned reassuringly. "From what Bob told me."

Alex let out a forced laugh as she looked down at her hand clasped firmly in his. Following her gaze, he saw a delicate silver bracelet poking out from underneath her black jacket. As she shifted slightly, it slid further down her wrist into full view. He moved his hand up to where it rested, touching the ring which was attached to it. Alex watched him curiously as shades of memories illuminated his face.

"I gave your mother this ring," he smiled. "Was a reminder for her that if she ever needed help she could always call me. I owe her a lot."

Alex smiled, trying to mask her fear. "You're going for the big guns today. One hell of a pun you got there."

"Ahh you're a smart Alec are ya?" John smirked, watching Alex grin. "Just like Dean."

Silence fell between them as they both became lost in their own thoughts.

From inside his jacket, John's mobile phone started to ring, breaking the atmosphere. Reaching in and pulling it out he answered it. Alex watched in silence as his face became more and more serious, the sad twinkle which had resided in his eye for a brief fleeting moment, disappeared and was replaced by the ice-cold hunter glint.

Putting down the phone he glanced at Alex, taking in her worried face. "I have to go," he said. "The boys are in Chicago. I think they might have just walked into a trap."

"Can I come," she asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," he smiled sadly, knowing she knew what he would say.

Alex watched him silently as he stood to leave. "Will I see you again?" she asked doubtfully.

"This isn't your fight anymore."

"I thought not," she said sarcastically, sounding too much like Dean for John's liking.

"I have to go. If you ever need anything-"

"Yeah yeah, I know … ring. Go save your kids."

John smiled, releasing Alex's hand before turning to go, leaving Alex staring after him as he disappeared out of the door and into the darkness. Resting her head in her hands, she let out a disheartened sigh.


	2. Chapter 2: It's been a long time

_Okay here is Chapter 2. Hope you like. Please review._

_Oh and as always I own nothing._

**Chapter 2: - It's been a long time.**

John drove straight through Missouri and all the way to Chicago without stopping, breaking every speed limit in the country. Screeching to a halt outside an old dilapidated warehouse, he was just in time to see a slim blonde woman in her late twenties take a swan dive out of an upper story window.

Breathing a nervous sigh of relief, instead of getting out of the car, he put the truck into drive, following the directions his friend had given him as to the whereabouts of the motel his sons were staying at.

Picking at the lock to their room, he eased himself in as discreetly as possible, taking care not to disturb anything. He saw Dean's old duffle bag and his journal lying abandoned on the desk. He walked over to the window which afforded a good view of the main road, waiting for his boys to return.

After meeting with Alex, he realised he had left them without answers for too long, that he at least needed to explain his long absence, the lack of communication, the lack of anything. He owed them that much. Missouri had told him as much back in Lawrence after Mary's spirit had saved Sam's life. He'd been there, but could not face seeing them, he hadn't listened then and it had almost cost his sons their lives. Maybe it took the blunt speech of an innocent teenager to kick him into gear. '_God I must be desperate,_' he thought with a bitter grin.

Uncomfortable emotions coursed through his veins, surging through every atom of his being. He tried to shrug them off as he waited silently, longingly. The blood pounded in his ears knowing he hadn't talked to Sam since his youngest son had stormed out on them to go to Stanford. A bitter taste of anger rose up in his stomach at the very thought, a feeling he couldn't quite quash. This was going to be the most excruciating meeting he would ever have, but it had to be done, after all he was their father, not their drill sergeant.

From behind him, a key turned in the lock, making him jump out of his quiet reverie. He glanced down at the parking lot to find the Impala waiting there. The door to the room was pushed open and two sets of heavy footsteps thudded on the thinly carpeted floor. Turning, he looked to find Dean staring straight at him.

* * *

"Hey!" Dean began, as he saw a figure drowned in shadow standing next to the window, thinking it might be an ambush.

The figure shifted slightly, the dim light falling across his face.

"Dad!" Dean gasped in shock, not sure whether to believe his eyes.

"Hey boys," John said, looking at his badly beaten sons, his voice catching in his throat as a wave of emotion shivered through him.

Dean started across the room, hugging his father tightly in relief, lessening the tension which smothered them. He breathed in deeply. It had been nearly a year. Drawing back slightly, he glanced nervously at Sam, his lips twisting with anxiety.

"Hi Sam," John began, looking towards his youngest son. He noted how sadness had etched across his young face. His eyes took in the gouged and bleeding flesh, the tears welling up in the young man's eyes and the tortured expression which played across his jaw.

"Hey dad," he breathed, as he walked slowly towards him, dropping his bag of weapons at his feet as he came to a halt. They stood studying one another cautiously, neither knowing what to say, how to bridge the gap that had been created over the years. They stood only a foot apart, but it felt like the mother of all canyons.

Dean looked at them worriedly. "Dad it was a trap. I didn't know, I'm sorry," he began, trying to break the tension between them.

"It's alright, I thought it might have been," he replied, gazing at his son's earnest face with a trace of a smile flickering across his lips.

"Were you there?"

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy right?"

"Yes sir," they said solemnly.

"Good. Well it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

"The Demon has," Sam started in surprise.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell. Actually kill it," John smiled, looking at his son's with hope.

"How?" Dean asked, searching his father's eyes, desperately wishing he could read his mind.

"I'm working on that," John smiled, looking into his solemn face.

"Let us come with you. We'll help," Sam started, a note of desperation in his voice which Dean knew so well.

"No Sam. Not yet. Listen, try to understand, this demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt."

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us," Sam butted in.

John looked at him, his eyes sparkling with tears he would never shed. "Of course I do. I'm your father," he said, emotion showing in his voice as he uttered the last word. "Sammy the last time we were together we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes sir."

"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

"Too long," Sam whispered sadly. He stepped forward, embracing his father and sagging against him as he felt a load lifting from his heart. His eyes watered as he buried his face into his father's shoulder. He couldn't remember the last time he had done this.

Dean watched the brief moment of affection which was rarely shown, a sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He wondered bitterly how long it would last, when a return to old ways would lead to the inevitable bickering that would escalate into an all out war. He tried to shrug off the niggling feeling that ate away at him in the pit of his stomach, instead trying to enjoy the moment, a precious moment, a moment where his family were all together again.

He hardly noticed the cut above his eye stinging or the back of his head throbbing from where Meg had knocked him out. His body ached, but for one brief moment, it, and all their troubles were forgotten.

Pulling back, they all looked at one another, silently feeling released of an enormous burden.

As suddenly as the moment had come, it ended. John was thrown up against the far wall by an invisible force. Sam and Dean were also knocked off their feet and thrown across the room, Sam landing in a heap on the floor.

Dean shouted out in pain, as the Daeva, which had started its bloodthirsty work on the pair in the old derelict warehouse, resumed its work focusing its attention on Dean and John. Sam snatched at his weapons bag which still lay in the middle of the floor and pulled out a phosphorous flare. Setting it off, he yelled "Shut your eyes. These things are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up!" The flare bathed the room with a blinding light and gas, extinguishing all the shadows the Daeva could hide in.

Sam half crawled, half stumbled to the door, Dean and John close behind.

Stumbling outside and over to where their cars were parked, John, Dean and Sam looked at each other.

"Alright, come on. We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out they'll be back," said Sam hurriedly, throwing his bag into the back seat.

"Wait, wait! Sam, wait," said Dean, a devastated look carved across his beaten face as he realised what he had to do. "Dad, you can't come with us."

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam turned angrily.

"You boys – you're beat to hell," their father muttered softly, torn between what he wanted and what he had to do.

"We'll be alright," Dean said reassuringly.

"Dean! We should stick together. We'll go after those demons..." Sam tried desperately.

"Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He... he's stronger without us around." Those last words caught in his throat as he had to admit the truth, no matter how much he hated it. He didn't like splitting up again so soon after they had been reunited, but they had no choice. He had to keep them alive and together no matter how many miles were placed between them. If that meant splitting up, so be it. He watched in silence as his little brother, who was not resolved to this way of thinking, made one last ditch attempt to keep them together.

"Dad ..." Sam tried, putting his hand on his father's shoulder pleadingly, "No. After everything. After all the time we spent looking for you. Please. I've got to be a part of this fight." John put his hand on Sam's wrist, trying to sooth his son's pain.

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you gotta trust me, son. Okay? You gotta let me go," he sighed, letting go of Sam's wrist.

Sam looked at his father, his eyes filled with pained tears, a torn expression gracing his bleeding face. Finally, he gained control of the internal battle he was fighting and slowly nodded. He slapped his father on the shoulder and grudgingly released him.

John looked at his sons. He didn't like leaving them, especially in the state they were in, but he knew he was putting them in harms way. He turned away from them, heading for his truck. Before opening the door, he turned back, looking at Sam and Dean. "Be careful boys." Giving them one last lingering look, he turned away from the pair and climbed into the front seat of his truck. With a fleeting glance out of the rear-view mirror, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from them, leaving them standing there watching as he disappeared into the darkness yet again.

* * *

"Come on," said Dean, as their father climbed into his truck.

Sam slid into the passenger seat of the Impala next to Dean as they watched their father yet again drive away without them. Sam swallowed down the bitterness that tried to strangle him; as yet again he was unable to keep his family together.

Dean looked at him thoughtfully. In silence, he put his foot on the accelerator and headed in the opposite direction to their father.

Dean knew what his brother was feeling. Dammit, he felt the same way, but he knew right now it was dangerous for all of them to stay together. He hated this, being caught between the pair of them trying to keep the peace, but it was his job, his responsibility to hold them all together no matter how many miles of open country lay between them. At least now he knew his father was okay, and there had been some measure of reconciliation between him and Sam. He just hoped that one day soon, all this would end. Not hunting in particular, but hunting for the Demon that had destroyed his family. He hoped that if it did, some day their lives might find some sense of normality.

Finding the Demon seemed to consume his father and brother and he feared that one day their luck would finally run out. That was if he believed in luck. He wasn't really sure anymore. It was more likely to be sheer willpower and want of vengeance that kept them alive. It sure as hell wasn't a perk of the job. He'd almost died before he went to see Roy Le Grande in Nebraska, and had inadvertently caused the death of an innocent man. He dreaded the thought that one day he might be the one to bury his brother and father. The thought didn't bear thinking about. His father and especially Sam were his life, if he lost them he didn't think he could hold it all together. He was struggling to cope as it was. Not that he'd ever admit or show it. Sam had enough problems of his own to deal with, he was the older brother, he had to protect him no matter what the cost. It was all that mattered.


	3. Chapter 3: Freaksville

Thanks dragon for the lovely reviews. Here's Chapter 3. Hope you like. To everyone who reads, please review as all criticism is much appreciated. Don't be afraid to be honest!

Chapter 3: - Freaksville

It had been three days since they had watched their father drive away without them. Dean had driven as far away from Chicago as they thought was safe before stopping near the state line to Iowa to patch up their wounds.

Driving further still, they reached South Dakota before finally pulling up in a small town looking for a comfortable motel in which to lay low.

Dean sighed and rolled over in his sleep that night, the rickety bed frame creaking ominously beneath him. Sam, who had been lying on his back staring up at the ceiling for over three hours, glanced over at him. He watched, grinning as his brother drew his pillow to him protectively, muttering incoherently in his sleep.

Looking back up at the peeling paint on the ceiling, he wondered how his brother could almost comatose with exhaustion after a hunt. The last time he'd had a decent night's sleep was back at Stanford with Jess curled up in his arms beside him the week before she was killed. The week before his visions had started and that demon had come to ruin his life for a second time.

He hit his head against the pillows in frustration as sleep yet again evaded him in favour of his elder brother. Wearily he dragged his aching bruised and battered body out from under the cheap stiff bed sheets and reached for his jeans and a T-shirt. Running a hand through his thick brown hair and wiping the other gingerly over his tired face feeling the healing cuts, he winced, thinking Meg had really done a number on them. He reached for Dean's jacket, rummaging for the keys to the Impala. Silently he crossed the room, scuffing on an old pair of trainers which lay beside the door and slipped out leaving Dean to dream peacefully.

* * *

The crisp night air hit him like a bucket of ice, his body letting out an involuntary gasp as he inhaled sharply. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he quickened his pace across the parking lot to where the Impala stood gleaning underneath the flickering neon lights of the rundown motel.

Climbing into the front seat, he leant his head back and closed his eyes, slowly turning the key in the ignition. Breathing in the car's distinctive scent, which reminded him so much of Dean, he pulled out onto the main road, letting the car take him where it wanted to go.

* * *

Driving round the open roads till dawn, Sam tried in vain to forget everything that had happened in Chicago. Looking into the wing mirror, he saw his own drawn and pale reflection staring back at him, the deep gouged flesh red raw against his milk white cheeks.

Sighing deeply, he pulled up outside an early opening café and ambled towards the building. Pulling open one of the glass doors, delicious smells wafted out, making his stomach groan with hunger. The warmth greeted and revived his flagging spirits as the smell of cooked bacon and coffee filled his nostrils reminding him instantly of the trip he and Dean had made to North Carolina little over two months ago.

Taking a seat in a corner booth, a waitress, who looked to be in her mid-thirties and was, in his opinion, far too cheerful for this hour of the morning, bustled over drawing out a notepad and pen.

"What can I get you hun?" she inquired, her eyes glancing over his bedraggled form as she fiddled with one of the chopsticks that kept her long auburn hair out of her eyes.

"Bacon, eggs, toast and a black coffee please," he muttered, forcing a smile as his stomach groaned at the very thought.

"Right you are," she smiled, before bustling away.

The café was quiet with only one or two other customers who were each sat huddled over their steaming cups of coffee, intermittently yawning between gulping down the warm black liquid. The room was filled with a gentle buzz and clatter which omitted from the kitchens, bringing the place to life.

The waitress walked back five minutes later, placing his coffee and breakfast in front of him before turning to leave. His mouth watered as he set about ravenously devouring the sandwich, feeling an instant boost in his energy levels.

Gulping down the hot coffee all traces of sleep fell away from him. Settling down comfortably into his seat and looking out of the window at the windswept lot, he suddenly felt a lot brighter, and when the waitress, whose name tag read 'Justine,' came back smiling at the polished plate, she asked, "Can I get you anything else?"

"Two more coffees and breakfast burritos to go please," he said with a genuine smile, thinking by the time he got back to the motel Dean was sure to be awake and wondering where the hell he, and more importantly the Impala had disappeared too. Knowing full well a coffee and a bacon sandwich would do wonders for his mood, Sam happily paid up before heading back to the car.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean grunted, as he walked out of the bathroom rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

Sam, groaning inwardly, closed the motel room door with a resounding clunk before chucking one of the bacon sandwiches at his brother and putting down the coffee's on the wobbly table.

"Getting you breakfast," he muttered, as he flopped down on to a chair and rested his head in his hands. "Sleep well?"

"Guess so," Dean said, as he ripped open the bag and began devouring the sandwich, keeping one eye on his brother. "You still not sleeping dude? You look like shit!"

"Thanks man," Sam started sarcastically, moving a hand up to his eyes and feeling the ever increasing bags. He sighed, shrugging noncommittally, as he began on his coffee.

"You know dad didn't have a choice, he had to leave. We were putting him in danger," Dean said.

"Shut up Dean okay. I'm fine. Drop it before you start." All his lightened spirits fled him as his brother continued to look at him in concern. "So you found us our next job yet or are we playing 'house' for the foreseeable future?" said Sam, trying to change the subject.

Dean grimaced at the mention of domesticity. His eyelid was beginning to heal and the bruises across his body were beginning to turn the greeny-grey colour that meant they were beginning to fade. A couple more days of crappy daytime TV would be enough to make them fit for hunting. God, if daytime TV was as bad as it had been when he was stuck in hospital after electrocuting himself, he'd be begging to risk life and limb for some action. Grinning to himself, he flopped down casually on one of the twin beds, studying his brother.

"Nah, not yet," he smiled. "Anyway we can't leave now. I'm glued to the ongoing saga that is Days of Our Lives."

Sam snorted into his coffee, showering the table with speckles.

"What?" Dean asked, feigning innocence.

"Oh nothing, nothing at all," Sam said, biting on his lower lip trying not to laugh.

Dean's eyes flashed mischievously. "Oh and here," he said chucking Sam the towel he'd discarded for the bacon sandwich, grinning as it hit him square in the face. "Wipe that snot-nosed goo off the table. I don't wanna be caught unawares by your gross bodily fluids. It's enough to make a guy feel sick."

Sam laughed as he pulled the damp towel off his face and threw it carelessly on to the table.

Dean, continuing to grin, stretched across the bed reaching for the TV remote control. "Eeny meany miny mo," he mimicked as he channel-hopped the various soap operas and reality TV shows, stopping at the local news channel. He watched in amusement as a reporter with an enormous perm and bright orange suit, looking like she had just walked out of the eighties, raced breathlessly through a breaking news story.

Watching the scenes unfold, Dean drew himself up on the bed, a serious expression replacing his playful spirits. Sam rose from his chair and walked towards him, stopping by his shoulder as he watched the report.

"Local residents heard terrified screams around six o'clock this morning," the orange suited lady rattled on. "The victim, Marianne Blackstock, ran out into the street screaming and hitting herself. Witnesses say the twenty two year old kept shouting 'Get them off me! Get them off me!" before running into an oncoming car. The woman, still conscious, became increasingly hysterical and according to paramedics suffered a massive heart attack.

Sam glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye, wondering what was going through his mind.

"This is not the first unusual death to hit the town," the woman continued, catching his attention. "Last week Frank Wilmott, forty nine, died after jumping out of an upper story window yelling that he was on fire. According to eye witnesses there, the man had become hysterical after starting building work on a house. Further details of the latest victim are still sketchy, but police say there is no connection between the two cases."

Dean pressed the mute button on the remote control and looked up at Sam. "Why do we always end up in Freaksville?"


	4. Chapter 4: That was a classic!

Okay here's the next chapter. Sorry for the wait, had a coursework overload.  
Anyway I hope you enjoy! As always nothing belongs to me unfortunately. Please review. Let me know what you guys think.

Chapter 4:- That was a classic!

An hour later, Dean and Sam had packed their bags and had driven into Camden town. Pulling up into a parking space, Dean shut off the engine and looked around at the white picket fenced houses which lined the street.

Raising his eyebrow, as he climbed out of the car he turned to Sam. "Is it just me or do you get the feeling we've just walked into a friggin Disney World commercial?" He peered over one of the fences glancing down at the perfectly manicured lawns, a look of silent wonder on his face.

"Welcome to Stepford," Sam grinned as Dean pulled a revolted face.

"Yeah I can't wait to meet the wives," Dean muttered sarcastically.

"I bet you can't," Sam laughed, knowing his brother too well. "All those perfect little women in their perfect little skirts."

Dean thumped him in the arm as he stepped onto the sidewalk. "Yeah but it looks like life ain't so perfect in suburbia," he grinned. "They've got the crazies."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Beats the motel any day."

"Oh yeah, I mean perfect Begonias and fancy drapes really compare to the untold joys of stiff moth-eaten bed sheets and rickety beds," Dean said sarcastically.

"At least motels are quiet on the supernatural front!"

"Yeah, as opposed to ghosts, ghouls and crazy ass hot chicks."

Sam flushed to the roots, knowing Dean meant Meg.

"Choose better next time you wanna get laid okay!" Dean said knowingly. "I really don't like getting caught up in the foreplay."

Sam punched his brother in the arm, rather harder than was necessary. "As much as I enjoy our friendly repartee, I think we should go find out what the hell's going on!"

Dean, grinning broadly, locked the Impala and started off towards the newest crime scene.

* * *

"Jeez," Dean whistled under his breath. "They mustn't get much excitement around here."

Sam nodded, as he glanced up the street to where half the town stood.

"Nothing like a gruesome death to draw out the crowds!"

Sam looked at him pulling a face.

As they pushed their way to the front, they saw that the victim's body had been removed and in her place, a chalk outline had been drawn on the road. The town sheriff and his deputy's were desperately trying to diffuse the onlookers and news crews.

"What happened?" Dean asked, as he came to a stop beside a young mother. She carried a toddler in one arm, which rested comfortably on her hip and was holding a stroller with another child sitting in it, in the other.

"Ooo, it was terrible," the young woman said, turning excitedly to tell an elaborated version of the story. "This woman who baby sits my friend's friend's kids went loopy. And I'm not talking like eccentric; I mean she absolutely lost it, started screaming and hitting herself. She must have had a few wires crossed or something. I mean she just freaked. Came running out of her house as I was on my way to the stores, ran out into the road and wham! Went flying up and over Mr. Stevenson's brand new Chevy. He's our dentist's brother in law by the way. Anyway she went flying, smashed the windscreen. Brakes screeched, tires swerved, screams and then nothing. It all happened so fast. Look at him," she said breathlessly, hopping excitedly on the balls of her feet as she pointed across the street to where a greying older man sat answering questions. "Poor man, he's obviously in shock."

"Whoa," Dean muttered, feigning surprise. "He must feel like crap. Is she-"

"Oh yeah, she's dead. Was the strangest thing though. She went flying over that car with such force, yet she remained conscious and started screaming like death was approaching her. She must have known."

"Known what?"

"That she was gonna die!"

Dean and Sam looked at her sceptically.

"It's true," piped up a lady standing next to her, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation. "She was absolutely hysterical. We thought it was cos she was hurt, but she kept hitting and clawing at herself. Paramedics arrived, tried to calm her down as her heart rate was through the roof, but she had a massive heart attack before they could help her."

"How do you know all of this?" Sam butted in rather sharply, his tiredness clouding his temper.

The woman, who was dressed in a putrid salmon pink suit with padded shoulders and a skirt that was rather too short for her age, turned to look at him contemptuously.

"Because I saw it! Marianne was screaming and looking around wildly one minute and had collapsed the next, paramedics trying to revive her."

Sam checked himself, muttering a half-hearted sorry. The lady seemed satisfied.

"When did all this happen," Dean continued, trying to remove the awkward tension between them.

"Not long ago. Maybe an hour or so."

"Can you hold Joey for me," the other woman butted in distractedly, as her other child, a restless four year old, started to make an escape from the stroller. She thrust the toddler at Dean, who caught the child awkwardly, a look of horror written across his face. Sam couldn't help but grin.

"Come back here this minute Jack!" the woman shouted, as the little boy, climbing out of the stroller, began to make a run for it, giggling as his mother gave chase.

Dean watched them disappear into the crowd helplessly, his cheeks growing pale as he turned back to the young child in his arms who pointed up at his face and giggled.

Sam turned his head away, shaking with silent laughter as Dean stood uncomfortably, holding the little boy away from him as though he had the plague.

"This kid better not puke on me," Dean groaned through gritted teeth as the toddler looked up into his face with a bashful smile, his baby blue eyes twinkling up innocently into his own.

Sam grinned. "Looks like you've been left holding the baby."

Dean rolled his eyes. "And the clichés keep on coming."

The toddler in his arms giggled at him as he reached forwards and stuck a finger up Dean's nose, making Sam snort and double over with laughter.

* * *

"Aww man that was a classic," Sam laughed, as the pair pulled up outside a motel on the outskirts of the town and collected the keys to a room half an hour later.

"Dude, the kid stuck his finger up my nose. That's just gross," Dean cringed as he moved his hand up to it self-consciously.

Sam unlocked the motel room door still laughing heartily to Dean's disgust. "After you," he grinned as Dean, loaded with duffle bags and the laptop stumbled past.

Stopping dead as he walked into the room, he muttered, "You've gotta be kidding me," Sam almost crashing into the back of him. He looked around in a stunned silence. "This really is Stepfordsville."

As his eyes scanned the room he found it done out in every shade of pink imaginable. The twin beds facing them had identically matching sheets and comforters, both having a large and elaborate floral design. The window standing behind them was decorated with fancy net curtains which clashed horribly with the walls, reminding Dean of a nursing home. The curtains were held back with long tasselled tie backs, which seemed to have a life of their own. The furniture, finishing off the twisted fairytale look, was fashioned in an ornate and decorative style.

"Okay," Dean muttered, as he threw the filthy black duffle bags on to the pink floral bedspread of the nearest bed. He picked up the bundle of lavender that rested on the pillow. "We're either in Lala Land or hell, and I'm leaning strongly towards the latter," he said, chucking it aside carelessly.

"More like grandmas," Sam grinned, trying not to laugh as his brother's brown heavy leather jacket, jeans and biker boots clashed violently with the pink flowery wallpaper and peachy carpet.

Dean stuck his tongue in his cheek, appalled. "I can't stay here. All we need now are some white porcelain dolls with those horrid dead eyes and we've got ourselves a horror movie."

"Tough," said Sam, watching his brother squirm. "This is the only place we can afford that isn't too conspicuous."

"Not too conspicuous! That's a bloody joke right? This place is like a beacon! It's like a horrid fairytale. We've stayed in some dives, but this …" he couldn't even find the right words to describe this nightmare. "Thank god dad's not here," he muttered finally, his cheeks flushing at the thought. "He would have had a frickin field day with this decorating disaster."

"At least it's clean," Sam tried, desperately trying to control the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth as he smelled the highly perfumed air.

"God, give me blood, guts and moth balls over this any day! I feel like Dorothy trapped in The Wizard of Oz. 'I just wanna go home,'" he mimicked.

Sam snorted as he sank down on to the other equally foul bed and rested his head back against the headboard picking at the frilly pillow cases. "When did you see the Wizard of Oz?"

Dean flushed. "That's beside the point. Can we please go shoot something, before I morph into a Barbie doll!" he begged.

Sam grinned at him. "Nah, we gotta find out what we're dealing with first, rather than going in all guns blazing only to find we've pissed off a spirit we can't kill with guns."

Dean pulled a childish scowl while he mulled this over, finally sighing and shrugging his shoulders in defeat. "But if I end up going stark raving mad like those people on TV, you're the first person I'm coming back to haunt."

"I feel so privileged," Sam muttered sarcastically, as he took the laptop Dean was holding, off him.

"Where do we start?" Dean began, as his brother started up the computer.

Sam stared at him, his eyebrow raised. "You're kidding right?" Dean didn't move. "Hospital records idiot."

"I was just testing you bitch," Dean retorted, rummaging through his duffle bag.

Sam rolled his eyes as he searched for a signal for wireless internet. Finding a weak signal in the corner behind the door, he flopped down, folding his legs under him, the laptop facing to where the motel reception stood across the parking lot.

Dean smirked as he looked over at the back of his younger brother's shaggy mane of hair. He was reminded of an incident that had occurred nearly fifteen years before, when his brother, who was only about nine at the time, had been made to sit in the corner of a motel room in Wisconsin after having a fight with their father. Sam had sat with his back to the room for hours, determinedly staring down at the floor, refusing to back down.

Their father had refused to take him on a hunt for a spirit that possessed young children. He had protested that he was old enough to look after himself and that it wasn't fair that he had to stay behind when Dean was allowed to go.

That had been the first major row Dean remembered them having. Once Sam had stood up to him that day, even though he was so much smaller than his father, there was no turning back or stopping him.

Looking down at him, he remembered wishing at the time that he had enough willpower to hold his own like that for longer than five minutes. Shocked, by the realisation that he envied Sam in more ways than he'd care to admit, he shook his head with an uneasy smile.

That had always been the one thing he could never do. Stand up for himself and win a fight against his father. Anyone or anything else, no problem, but his father, well there was always something in the look he would give him that would always have the profound effect of changing his mind, beating him into submission, making him act like the soldier he had trained to be. No matter how hard he fought against it, those two little words 'Yes sir,' would escape him before he could stop them. Those two little words which so frustrated and annoyed the hell out of Sam. But that angry cold glare from his father made him submit, sometimes willingly, other times forcibly.

He hated that look, the look of disappointment and sadness mixed with frustrated anger. He couldn't bear his father to be embarrassed or ashamed of him. To have him think he was weak, worthless or worse, a disobedient failure. He wasn't like Sam, who didn't need his father's permission to do what he wanted. He wanted, _'needed' _to prove himself to John. He held too high a regard for his opinion and no matter what happened between them, he loved his family and would do anything for them. He didn't dare to disobey for fear of losing everyone he held dear to him. Sam did enough disobeying and arguing for the both of them. He had to keep the peace, keep them together. Sam would never care to admit it, but Dean knew his brother and his father were more alike than he would ever be. Too much had passed between them for things to be otherwise, and he was okay with that. He could live with it. He had to be there to keep them from killing one another. He had to stop them from walking into a blind trap when it came to killing the demon. John and Sam were obsessed with it. It was the only reason Sam had accompanied him across the country in search of their father after Jess's death.

He just feared the day when he wouldn't be able to stop them and would end up burying them both, being left eternally alone. Recent events in Chicago had only helped to bring these painful reflections back to the surface, and had proved to him his brother and father would recklessly chase the demon to the ends of the earth if they could. He knew he had to be there, not only to play a part in killing the demon that had destroyed his life, but also to stop his family from doing something stupid. That was his job. That was his mission.


	5. Chapter 5: Thanks for that!

_Okay here's the next chappie. Hope you like. As always let me know what you guys think._

Chapter 5:- Thanks for that!

Sam hacked his way into the hospital records, downloading information on the victims with ease. It hadn't really occurred to him till now how easy hacking into restricted records had become. It was like second nature to him, as easy as going to the library and opening a book.

Gathering up a pen and paper, he jotted down the victims histories, noting anything that could give them a possible clue as to what could be happening to make them flip so unexpectedly.

"You got anything?" Dean asked, as he drew himself off the bed and crouched down beside him.

"A bit," Sam muttered, as he continued to jot down details. "They both suffered massive heart attacks."

"What? Even the guy that jumped out of the building?"

"Says so here in the coroner's report, see?" said Sam, holding the laptop out to him.

"Damn, and I'd bet ten dollars on the cause of death being splattered across the sidewalk," Dean muttered sarcastically, raising his eyebrow. "I really need to brush up on my betting skills."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You care to know anymore?" he exclaimed.

"What, you're telling me there's more to it than Frank Wilmott believing he could fly like R. Kelly?"

Sam turned to his brother a look of wonder in his eyes. "Enough already! Can you please concentrate?"

"Hmm, I guess I could give it a shot," Dean grinned, settling himself down beside Sam on the carpet. "God this is like being back at school." Both boys were sat facing the wall, their backs to the room, huddled over the laptop.

Sam sighed inwardly, wishing his brother would be more serious. "Well both victims were seeing psychologists.

"The same one?"

"No."

"Well that narrows it down a bit college boy. The two victims were screwed up human beings just like the rest of the world."

Sam butted in before he could cut in with anymore sarcastic remarks. "The only connection between them is that they both attended consultations at the local hospital. Both psychologists held their weekly sessions there."

"Can you hack into the psychologists files?" Dean muttered, as he watched his brother click and type in access codes and passwords, trying to break down the firewalls which protected the restricted files.

"Dunno. Depends whether they use computer system files or whether they still use the old paper files."

* * *

Three hours later, Sam finally moved from his hunched position on the floor, wearily stretching his legs as his vision swam. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he flopped down on one of the beds. We've got ourselves some very screwed up souls."

"Oh what fun," Dean retorted as he flicked on the TV. "I really wanna do the whole nut job thing again. How long's it been, four months since you last shot me with rock salt!"

Sam flushed, anger mixed in with guilt. How could he forget that! Had the gun been loaded with real bullets back at the Roosevelt Asylum, he would have easily killed his brother, without batting an eyelid. He couldn't believe Dean could joke about something like that, especially after what could have happened.

"Come on Dean you could pull off the whole crazy 'I think I'm a girl,' thing really well. I'll even braid your hair for you," he said, trying to change the subject forcing a smile. "You never know, Oprah might want to interview you on her show. Pink would definitely be a good look."

Dean threw one of the frilly pillows at him grinning in spite of himself as his brother laughed at the mental image of Dean dressed in a pink flowing skirt with pigtails.

"It would go lovely with those beautiful green eyes of yours," Sam continued mockingly.

"I think this room is beginning to get to you dude," Dean laughed. "Lets get out of here, I'm starving."

Sam, nodding in agreement, heaved himself off the floor, dancing on the spot.

"Dude!" Dean smirked. "That's just wrong!"

"My butts numb," Sam tried.

Dean looked at him in amusement. "Too much information man. I really don't wanna know anything about your ass."

"But Dean. If you're gonna pull off the whole 'I believe I'm a girl,' thing, you're gonna have to start looking and noticing these things," Sam whined, a glint in his eye.

Dean clobbered him over the head. "No matter how strange this thing gets, for the love of god, I never want to know or look at your ass."

Sam pouted. "And what's so wrong with my ass?"

"Seriously dude," Dean laughed as he heaved on his brown leather jacket and pulled open the door, "You need to get laid."

* * *

Dean pulled up outside the diner, noticing the cotton candy blue it was painted in. He turned, pulling a face at Sam who merely grinned and climbed out of the car.

"This place is just so strange," Dean muttered. "Looks like we've done a 'Back to the Future.'"

"What? You gonna be Marty McFly," Sam laughed.

"Hey, he was cool."

Sam smirked as he opened the glass door, allowing his brother in before him.

Stepping over the threshold, Dean glanced around at the steel-topped counter and red leather-clad booths that were scattered around the edge, small steel tables and chairs making up the rest. Dean blinked twice, refusing to believe his eyes. "Oh this place is a nightmare. Where are all the grungy gloomy homely bars?"

Leading the way over to an empty booth next to the window, Sam laughed. "Come on, we might be able to see our meals for once."

Dean scowled. "I keep expecting the director to shout cut," he said, glancing round at the numerous parents and children that filled the family friendly diner. "You sure this isn't candid camera?"

Sam glanced round. "Nah, can't be. This is just too surreal, even for them."

Dean grinned, opening the pink and yellow striped menu as a pock-marked waiter with a baby blue apron and hat navigated his way through the crowds towards them, a gloomy expression written across his ruddy face.

"What can I get yah?" he mumbled in a tired and rather bored voice.

"Burger, fries and a beer please Chirpy," said Dean.

Sam, cringing inwardly, kicked him hard in the shins, making him jerk painfully.

Grinning as Dean mouthed, "What was that for," he turned to the waiter who slowly turned his eyes towards him.

"Same mate."

The middle aged man nodded, slowly pushing the notepad back into his pocket before turning to leave.

"What a friendly place this is," Dean muttered sarcastically once the waiter was out of earshot.

"Would you cut it out," Sam hissed. "Stop baiting him. The last time you did that, I had to haul your sorry ass out of a full scale bar brawl."

"Man that was four years ago," he said, remembering the seven burly bikers, that were twice his size, who had picked a fight with him over some girl. He grinned to himself remembering the startled look they gave when he knocked out two of them, before being pummelled by the rest. His eyes twinkled as he remembered how the girl he had had his eye on, smiled at him afterwards as she nursed him better.

Sam, shaking his head as he watched his brother's jubilant face, laughed. "Yeah and you never change."

Dean pouted as Sam pulled the research he'd collected about the victims and the town out of his pocket.

"Man put that away. Let's just have a break. God you're worse than dad!"

Sam looked at him sharply, bitterness erupting in his chest. Sighing in resignation, he rammed the paper deep into his pocket and stared determinedly at the metal panelling that edged the table.

"That's better," said Dean, ignoring the effect his words had had on him. "Why don't you see if there's anyone in here that takes your fancy."

"Dean," Sam groaned, through gritted teeth, feeling his temper starting to boil.

"Look all work and no play makes you a very dull little brother. Let me hook you up for once."

"Dean, I don't feel the need to go out every other night and pick up girls, okay."

"You mightn't feel the need to, but its damn good fun."

"Yeah so I've noticed," Sam sighed. "Your little black book must be the size of an atlas by now."

Dean grinned. "You can always borrow it if you want."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't do sloppy seconds, especially from you."

"Ouch," Dean whistled. "That's harsh."

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut as the waiter returned carrying their food. Chucking it down roughly, he turned to leave.

"Charming," Dean muttered, as he attacked the enormous burger in front of him. "Nice food though."

Sam smirked, whilst starting on his own.

As they sat eating quietly, an enormous crash emitting from the kitchens reverberated around the room, the din drowning out the conversations that had filled the air. The room fell silent as all listened to the stifled yells and screams that bled through the swing doors.

"What the-" Dean muttered, as he struggled to swallow his mouth full. Following everyone else's gaze, he watched as two men flew through the doors. One, he recognised as their miserable waiter, stumbled backwards clutching his bleeding stomach as the other, who looked like the chef, wearing a large hat and apron, wielded a carving knife.

The diner sat in shocked silence as they stared transfixed at the pair, time seeming to stand still.

"What the hell's wrong with you," the waiter breathed shallowly between desperate gasps for air, as the chef charged at him, sending him flying backwards over a table scattering the startled customers.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" the chef continued to yell, as he lunged at the waiter again. "I WON'T GO WITH YOU. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"

"Whoa. What are you talking about Tom? I don't want you to go anywhere with me."

From behind them, two other waiters jumped the chef, trying to wrestle the knife away from him. Punching and fighting his way free, he again lunged at the wounded waiter, whose pale face looked up at him terrified.

Sam and Dean jumped to their feet ready to defend the man who was stumbling towards them.

"I'LL KILL YOU FIRST," he yelled, throwing the knife towards the waiter, who ducked just in time. Dean watched the man drop to the floor taking his eye off the other.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, as he watched as if in slow motion, the knife flying through the air towards his unsuspecting brother.

Dean, his eyes widening in surprise, threw himself to the floor as the knife whipped past his hair and logged itself in the wall level to where his head had been just moments before.

"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively after a long pause, looking to where his brother lay unmoving on the floor underneath a nearby table.

Dean rolled over slowly, giving a thumbs up signal. His eyebrows rose as he looked up at the offending weapon and crawled out from under the table. "Thanks for that!" he exclaimed weakly, a sheepish look etched across his face as he struggled to his feet.

"You okay?"

"Yeah little brother, you?"

"Yeah, I wasn't the one who nearly had a knife through his head a la Halloween."

Dean pulled a queasy expression as he comprehended his brother's words. Silently, noticing that all eyes were on him, he shifted uncomfortably and looked over to where the chef stood being restrained by two well built male customers.

The chef was drenched with sweat and was continuing to flail under their grip, screaming into space.

"Something just ain't right," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Sam. "People just don't lose the plot like this."

Sam looked from him to the chef, whose face was turning beetroot red and was breathing heavily. He watched as the man's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped to the floor, his body fitting as it struggled to cope with the panic shooting through every nerve ending.

As a deathly silence stole across the diner, one of the customers, breaking the stillness, reached for the phone on the counter and rang for the emergency services. Within five minutes paramedics were at the scene, checking the man's vital signs before rushing him and the injured waiter off to hospital, leaving the rest to stare after them as the Sheriff's department began their questioning.

"You fancy a trip down to the hospital after all this," Dean asked Sam, gesturing to the Sheriff. Sam continued to stare off into space.


	6. Chapter 6: Head to Head

_Okay here's the next chapter, up quicker than usual. Hope you like it. Please read and review._

Chapter 6:- Head to head.

"I feel like an undertaker," Dean moaned, as he stepped out of the dress hire boutique, having finally escaped the barrage of questions the sheriff had thrown at them. "This suit's even worse than the Blue's Brothers one I got for that job we did for Jerry.

Sam grinned pulling a handful of fake IDs out of his duffle bag before flinging it on to the back seat of the Impala. Flicking through them, he smirked as he found one's for bikini experts, why his brother thought they'd need these he'd never know. Next he found a janitor's badge and finally stopped at a psychologist's ID. Looking sideways at his brother, he raised an eyebrow.

"Hey," Dean said "In our line of business it's best to have a back up plan in case people think we're crazy. I don't want to end up in a loony bin that's probably more haunted than the Roosevelt asylum!"

Sam smirked. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah well you were thinking it."

"Now look who's turning into Missouri."

Dean flushed. "That's your department psychic boy. I'm just the loveable good looking older brother who keeps your ass outta trouble."

"Shut up and get in the car," Sam laughed, climbing into the driver's seat.

"How come you get to drive."

"Cos I'm taller," Sam retorted.

The pair continued to bicker all the way to the hospital.

As they climbed out and entered the building, Dean pushed Sam towards the receptionist's desk; a pretty blonde girl in her early twenties was sitting behind.

"Isn't this more your kind of thing," Sam hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

"It isn't me she's checking out," Dean grinned, looking at the young woman who was of a slim build. "You could do worse. Use your charm Casanova." He shoved Sam forwards with a mischievous smile, before wandering off down the corridor.

* * *

"Any problems?" Dean winked as Sam walked towards him several minutes later, looking flushed. 

"He's on the third floor, Wing Seven," Sam mumbled distractedly, as he felt the receptionist's eyes follow him.

Dean, noticing this, smiled broadly. "You get her number?"

"Dean! We're on a hunt."

"So! It doesn't mean we can't have a little fun!" he said, a cheeky glint in his eye.

"Let's just get this over with shall we," Sam groaned, pushing the button for the elevator.

* * *

As they reached Wing Seven, they encountered a police officer. Dean, using his gift of the gab and fake IDs, sweet-talked their way around the older man, making it into the chef's room with little difficulty. 

As Dean pushed open the door, Sam noticed how the blinds had been drawn and the room was bathed in a dull light emitting from the light fitted to the ceiling. The cold harsh glare reflected off the sterile pale blue walls dampening his spirits and making his skin crawl. The hospital bed stood in front of them, the chef, Alan Fox according to the patient's notes which Sam picked up and leafed through briefly, was sitting cuffed to the metal sides looking at them questioningly.

"Good afternoon Mr. Fox," said Dean, in his most formal clinical voice, reading the notes over his brother's shoulder. "I'm Mr. Cobain and this is Mr. Gogh. We're from the State's mental health resource centre. Would you mind answering some questions for us?"

Sam glanced at Dean, flashing him an incredulous look, and shaking his head in disbelief at his poor taste in names. Groaning, he wondered how they would ever get away with this one.

The man, who still seemed rather flustered, looked between the two men before muttering, "I've already told the sheriff everything I know." Looking more closely at them he added, "Hey, aren't you the two guys from the diner?"

Dean exchanged a nervous glance with Sam.

"Yes sir," Sam muttered. "We had just stopped off for a bite to eat after we'd been to see a patient of ours." Changing the subject he continued, "It would be really helpful if you could assist in our inquiries."

The man let out a deep sigh, but nodded.

"So," said Dean, letting go of the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "Can you tell us what happened at the diner?"

"As I told the sheriff, I was standing cooking meals and had just started to carve when I … I just felt these people crowding in all around me, pulling at me and hitting me and trying to drag me away."

Dean exchanged another glance with Sam. "Are you sure sir? Others, who witnessed what happened, said that the waiter who was injured had simply come over to hurry up the orders when you turned on him."

"I'm sure, look; I have the bruises to prove it! I didn't see Peter. I'd never …" he trailed off.

"Do you know who the people that attacked you were?" Sam pressed, examining the bruises with silent wonder.

"No. I … I could see their outlines, their bodies, but I couldn't see their faces. They, they were faceless," he muttered trying to make sense of it himself; thinking to everyone else, even perhaps himself, it sounded nuts, that he was really going crazy. "The sheriff doesn't believe me, does he? That's why he sent for you. To have me certified as a nut job!"

"No, we're just here to try to make sense of what happened earlier today. To assess what really happened," Sam said in what he hoped was a soothing calming voice.

"Oh yeah, so why do I need these," the man replied sarcastically, nodding to the straps that bound his arms and legs to the bed.

"I'm sure it's just a precautionary measure," Dean smiled. "You'll be out of those in no time," adding inwardly _'We'll make sure he is.'_

"Well I think we've got all we need for now," Sam said, looking at his brother. "You just try and relax."

Dean nodded in agreement, as he turned towards the door. "Hang tight."

"I'm not going anywhere," the chef laughed bitterly, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

Dean broke out into a grin as he followed his brother out of the door, pulling it too behind him.

"You reckon this is all normal, as far as going loopy goes? Or you reckon we've just joined the Looney Tunes?" said Dean, turning to Sam as they made their way down the stairs and left the building via a side exit, avoiding the receptionist at the younger brother's request.

"Oh come on, you know full well this isn't normal," Sam muttered with a smirk.

Dean beamed. "Damn, now I'm going to have to miss my favourite soap."

"Get in the car," Sam laughed, as Dean threw him the keys.

"So you gonna ring that girl," Dean grinned broadly, gesturing back to the building.

"Umm, no," Sam muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Why the hell not?" Dean said, staring at his brother open-mouthed. "She seemed really interested in you."

"Yeah, a little too interested," Sam flushed with embarrassment.

Dean laughed. "Aww is lil Sammy scared of the big bad girl!"

Sam side swiped him, laughingly saying, "Shut up. She was more your type anyway."

Dean continued to grin.

"Well it's not really that hard to be your type is it! All she needs is to be fairly decent looking with a pulse and you're all theirs."

"Hey, I'm not that easy," Dean said, feigning hurt pride.

Sam grinned, turning on the ignition. "You'll flirt with anything!"

* * *

Sam pulled up outside the motel and the pair walked up the grassy slope to the gravel path which led up to their room. Opening the door and chucking the keys aside on the ornate table come desk, Sam hastily started up the laptop, itching to do some research. He shrugged off his jacket eagerly waiting to begin hacking into the file records of the latest victim. 

Knowing what he was looking for this time, he found the record he was apprehensively searching for with ease and noted down the connection between the three victims.

"You found what you're looking for?" Dean asked, as he walked over carrying two mugs of coffee.

"Yeah," said Sam, a glimmer of a smile gracing his lips. "The first victim, Frank Wilmott, was severely burned in a house fire five years ago and lost his daughter. Marianne Blackstock, the girl who did the flip over the car, suffered from severe Arachnophobia and our knife-happy chef Tom, suffered a severe childhood trauma. All were seeing psychologists at the local hospital."

"The same one?"

"No, well there are only two psychologists in this town, but two of the three saw the same guy, a Mr. Hyde."

"So could we be dealing with a demon psychologist?" Dean grinned.

"I highly doubt it seeing as the victims were patients of both."

"Well you got a better idea Einstein?" said Dean, sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"Well this demon is obviously using a person's worst fears against them."

"Demons usually do dummy. They normally embody a common fear and use it as a weapon."

"Yeah, but this one uses a different fear for each individual. Frank seemed to think he was on fire, Tom thought faceless figures were coming to take him away, just like he remembers in his nightmares from childhood-"

"Well what about Marianne?" Dean butted in.

"Witnesses say she was screaming and clawing at herself, right?"

"Yeah, something along the lines of 'Get them off me, get them off me!'"

"So couldn't we assume then that she thought spiders were crawling across her? It would explain her wild hysteria."

"I guess. But what are you getting at?"

"Maybe this demon is a hybrid."

"Ehh?" Dean said, his eyebrow raised.

"What if this demon has the ability to embody all fear? What if it can sense a particular person's fear and create it in that person's mind."

"You mean like mind control?"

"Maybe. Hospitals are the perfect place to pray on the vulnerable."

Dean cringed. "God this sounds like something from Charmed."

Sam grinned. "You man, are full of surprises."

"What?" Dean tried innocently. "They were three hot witches!"

Sam laughed. "You're unbelievable you know that?"

Dean laughed. "I try."

"So what are we gonna do smart ass," Sam laughed.

Dean replaced his smirk with a serious look, a knowing glint twinkling in his eye.

"Hell no! Don't even think about it. You're not going in there!" Sam half-shouted.

"Look, if we're gonna catch this thing; we need to draw it out."

"You're not going in there," Sam repeated resolutely.

"Well what do you suggest?"

Sam was silent.

"Exactly!"

"Well let me go. I have bigger fears than you to tempt it."

"That's exactly why I'm going in there not you. You shot me in the chest the last time you went off alone, oh and befriended a crazy ass demon."

Sam flushed, anger tinged with bitterness. "I don't like this."

"Oh and I'm just jumping for joy at the prospect," Dean retorted sharply. "It's my life ambition to be scared literally to death."

Sam furrowed his brow, his mouth turning down at the corners into a worried frown.

Dean, trying to lighten the atmosphere between them, grinned. "Look it'll be fine; I can wisecrack the thing to death."

"This isn't funny," Sam mumbled shaking his head at his brother's poor attempt at humour. "You could be killed."

"So could a lot of others if we don't do this."

Sam sighed. "Fine, but if you die on my ass, I'll never let you rest in peace."

Dean smiled. "It's a deal."


	7. Chapter 7: FUBAR

_Here's chappie 7. I hope you like it. Please R&R._

**Chapter 7:- FUBAR.**

The following day, Dean made the phone call to the hospital to see a psychologist. Agreeing on a slot for the same afternoon, Sam drove him apprehensively to the front doors.

The pair looked at each other, Dean trying to hide the feeling of doubt that was crawling up his spine, Sam pretending not to notice how his brother kept snatching sideways glances at the building before them.

"I'll see you in an hour then," Sam smiled, trying to force a carefree attitude to his voice.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, as he forced open the passenger side door. "Wish me luck."

Sam smiled. "You don't need luck. You're screwed up enough already."

Dean's expression made Sam laugh as numerous emotions passed over his face. He didn't know whether to be proud or shocked that his brother thought he was emotionally FUBAR'ed. Considering their lives, he thought they'd turned out pretty well.

* * *

Dean leaned hard against Mr. Hyde's door, slowly pushing it open.

"Hi Mr-"

"Cleavedon."

"Would you like to take a seat."

The psychologist, a balding man in his late fifties, ushered Dean towards a seat in front of his own.

Dean couldn't help noticing the clinical antiseptic smell that seemed to seep through the entire hospital. '_From now on, I hate hospitals,'_ he thought making a mental note as his nose wrinkled in disgust.

He sat down, fidgeting uncomfortably under the older man's penetrative gaze. _'Now I know what being in a fish bowl feels like,_' he thought, grimacing as his eyes flitted round the room nervously, taking in the obligatory beige décor that could be found in every office in the entire world. The old mahogany furniture, he noticed, had seen better days.

"There's no need to be nervous young man," Mr. Hyde uttered, breaking into his quiet reverie. "We can take things as slowly as you like."

Dean cringed inwardly at the condescending tone he could hear hidden poorly beneath the pseudo politeness the man was trying to exude.

He turned his eyes on the man, looking intently at him, taking in his smart blue suit, the tired wrinkles round his eyes and mouth and the remnants of a once full head of hair, growing in white tufts sticking out at odd angles from behind his ears.

Dean smiled with embarrassment as the man made direct eye contact.

"Pretty drab office you got here," Dean said, forcing himself to fill the awkward silence.

"Never really thought about it," Mr. Hyde replied, gazing at him intently making Dean shift uncomfortably again.

'_Maybe I should have let Sam do this,' _he thought inwardly, as he stole a glance at the man in front of him. _'This is more his forte.'_

So you been busy lately," he tried, fishing for a conversation starter.

"So so," Hyde replied. "But we aren't here to talk about me. I want to know about you."

Dean laughed nervously, his cheeks flushing. "Ahh well …"

"Let's see if I can help. Where are you from?"

Dean looked at him, his brow furrowing. "I move around a lot. I'm not really from one specific place."

"Okay, do you have any family?"

Dean looked down at the floor awkwardly, wondering how best to answer this question without revealing anything he wanted to keep hidden. He decided on the truth, well almost.

"Yeah, I've got a younger brother."

"No parents?"

Dean smiled weakly. He hated tricky questions. "Umm my mother died when I was young. My dad's not really in the picture right now."

"Tell me about them."

Dean, laughing uncomfortably, looked round desperately for a change of subject. Sliding off his seat, he walked towards the window. The sunshine hit his tired face, the cuts and bruises standing in sharp contrast with his pale skin.

Picking up a photograph off the window sill, he looked back at the psychologist. "This your family?"

"Yes," Mr. Hyde said, his voice calm.

"Nice. You live in one of those houses with their perfectly manicured lawns?" he continued, taking in the full picture.

"Yes, well I wouldn't call them perfectly manicured, but I guess they're not exactly dying."

Dean smiled as he looked out of the window and over the parking lot, trying to make out the Impala.

"Mr. Cleavedon, would you mind taking a seat."

Dean, dragging his eyes away from the many cars, grudgingly walked back to the empty chair and flopped down.

"You don't seem to like talking about your family. Are you normally so reserved?"

Dean looked at him. "There's not much to say."

"Is there some underlying issue that makes you so defensive about talking to me?"

"Look I came here cos I needed help with my phobia. I didn't come to talk about my family," Dean said sharply.

Mr. Hyde didn't seem to react at all to Dean's rising frustration. "What do you fear Mr. Cleavedon?"

"Dean," Dean muttered. "My name's Dean."

"Well Dean?"

"I'm terrified of heights," Dean said, feeling for the first time in control of the conversation. "I can't stand emm. I get vertigo every time I climb the stairs."

"You seemed okay when you were looking out of the window," the elder man smiled, a twinkle in his eye that Dean couldn't quite read.

"Yeah well …" Dean stammered, cursing himself for being so stupid.

"Why don't you tell me the truth Dean," he continued, gazing deeply into the young man's eyes making Dean wish he was anywhere else but here.

"I am," Dean tried, knowing the psychologist wasn't buying it. Instead, he continued to take notes and observations making Dean feel uneasy. He hated this. Not knowing whether he'd been discovered, whether the man before him could tell the real reason he was here, could tell what he really felt behind the macho cocky façade, and see the side deep within him that he desperately tried to drown.

"I-" he tried to think.

"Tell me something true. Something real. Something perhaps about your family."

"There's not much to say," Dean muttered uneasily.

"Anything will do."

"I would do anything to protect my brother," Dean said, looking earnestly at him.

The psychologist smiled. "Now I believe you. That's the first real thing you've said."

Dean sighed in relief as the psychologist seemed satisfied.

"Why do you think your brother needs protecting?" he continued, catching Dean off guard. He watched the reaction and change in facial expression his words gouged. He noticed a sadness creeping into the young man's eye.

"Cos he's my little brother."

"And-" Hyde smiled, knowing he was still holding back.

"Because ever since we were kids I've looked after him. He's my family. I'm afraid of not being there to protect him. Of not being able to see what's coming before its too late. Of failing him."

Dean stopped realising what he'd done. Shutting his mouth, he rearranged his cocky façade and stared around the room looking intently for a distraction.

"This place is so depressing," he said cheerily, though it wasn't reflected in his eyes. "You should get some creeping plants or something. Makes a guy feel miserable."

Mr. Hyde simply smiled, watching the young man lock the gates that caged his emotions, drawing down the barrier between them. Looking down at his watch, he smiled. "Time's up. I think we should continue this tomorrow. We're making good progress. How does two o'clock tomorrow afternoon sound?"

Dean sighed inwardly, but nodded his agreement. If the demon didn't take the bait today, he'd have to go through all this again tomorrow. He needed a drink, a stiff drink.

He stood to leave.

"Dean, you know you don't always have to pretend to be the devil-may-care older brother."

"Course I do. It's my job," he replied lightly.

The older man smiled as the younger turned to leave, slowly closing the door behind him.

From behind a screen that shielded the corner of the room, a dark shadow let out a malevolent grin.


	8. Chapter 8: The Gentlest Whisper

_Okie dokie here's the next chappie. The story's getting better, I promise. Hope you like it. Please R&R._

Chapter 8: - The Gentlest Whisper.

Dean walked out of the entrance and over to where Sam had been sat waiting impatiently in the Impala.

"Anything?" Sam asked, as he leant across the passenger seat and opened the door, leaning back as Dean slid in beside him.

"Nada," Dean sighed. "Saw nothing suspicious. The guy seemed like you regular kooky psychologist."

Sam pulled a face. "And?"

"And I'm going back for another session tomorrow," Dean said reddening.

Sam tried to hide the grin that was itching to light up his face. "Oh."

"Oh what?" Dean said, shoving his brother.

"Nothing," Sam smiled. "You finally figured out that you need a shrink," he added under his breath.

He ducked as Dean's hand flew at his head.

"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that! And anyway I don't need a shrink _we_ need a lead."

Sam grinned as he lifted his hand and jammed the key into the ignition. "Whatever man."

* * *

The following day, Dean once again found himself sitting uncomfortably in Mr. Hyde's office. The room was even duller and more depressing than the day before, the rain cloaking the daylight. He sat alone, uneasy in the deafening silence that settled over the room, waiting for the psychologist.

He had spent half the night before wondering whether the demon would take the bait. He had to laugh at that. '_The bait.'_ He was the bait!

"Sorry I'm late," Mr. Hyde said as he entered the room, breaking into Dean's thoughts. "Another case," he said dismissively, elaborating no further.

Dragging a chair forward, he leant back into it and studied the younger man closely.

"You look tired. Rough night?"

Dean grinned, flashing his most charming knowing smile. "Yeah, good booze, good female company, you know."

Hyde grinned, nodding knowing nothing could be further from the truth. The man before him was as closed as a book. The early progress they had made the day before was all but a distant memory.

"So you said yesterday that you were afraid of not being able to protect your brother."

Dean cringed. "You don't beat around the bush do you," he said evasively, wishing he could forget what he had told the man before him. _'Why can't this bloody demon or whatever it was attack already,' _he groaned inwardly. _'I don't feel like any chick flick moments today._'

"Would you care to elaborate," Mr. Hyde prompted him, his grey eyes carefully watching the younger man, looking for a window, a crack, anything to break past the cool collected façade.

"Not particularly," Dean retorted. "I don't do touchy feely."

"Emotions aren't touchy feely Dean."

"Yeah well," he replied, the tips of his ears turning pink. It was the first time someone had openly challenged him. Normally once he'd closed the gates, freezing up, no one, not even Sam would try to pry. It was an unspoken law between him and his brother; some things were best left unsaid. Sam had his secrets and he had his. It didn't do to dwell on things that couldn't be changed. _'Yet if this demon didn't come after him soon,' _the voice of reason within him said, '_He might have to open the flood gates and release all the fears, emotions and dreams he had for so long suppressed, hidden, kept far away beneath the surface in order to survive, in order to draw the demon out.'_ The voice of stubborn pride within him tried to quash these unpleasant thoughts, though the niggling feeling within him would not be pushed aside.

Mr. Hyde watched Dean closely, intrigued by the confusion, emotion, bitterness and stubborn pride that all washed over his face. He watched as the cold detached glimmer in his eye was slowly replaced, the gates to this troubled young man opening barely a crack. Smiling to himself, he asked, "How old is your brother?"

"A few years younger than me," Dean replied distractedly, glancing down at the EMF scanner resting in his pocket, not seeing the reader jumping excitedly.

* * *

From behind the yellow floral screen that stood in the corner of the room, the demon appeared, the same malevolent smile playing across its lips as the day before. It sniffed the air hungrily, sensing the fear and conflicting emotions which swamped the room, the emotions of the doctor's new patient. Its yellowing teeth broke out into a grin as it breathed in the vulnerability which the young man so carefully tried to conceal beneath his proud carefree mask. The complex energy was electric on its tongue as it stuck it out on the air, feeding ravenously.

"Why do you feel you need to protect him?" Mr. Hyde continued.

"Didn't we already cover this yesterday," Dean said, shifting under the psychologist's gaze as he caught his eye.

"Yes, briefly, but I'd like you to talk about it some more."

"Why? I came to you with a fear of heights."

"We're here to talk about you. The truth," Hyde said with a smile. "You are so interested in everything else but the simple reason you're here."

As the two men talked on, the demon, from behind the curtain, reached its hands forwards impatiently, the energy filling the room in waves, almost too much for it to take. The thrill of desire crawled up its spine as the demon fiercely fought to keep control, grinning as it decided on its next meal.

* * *

Dean climbed in to the car an hour later looking flushed and disconcerted.

"You okay dude?" Sam asked, looking at his brother worriedly.

"I'm fine, just drive," Dean replied tartly, Sam feeling the sting of his words.

"That doctor getting to you," Sam smiled understandingly.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean snapped, losing control of his well worn temper. He tried not to think of what he had stupidly told the psychologist to catch this demon. How he had felt responsible for Sam after their mother died and especially after Jess. Talking to the psychologist had had one effect on him though. He realised just how much he had come to lean on his brother over the last few months and couldn't bear the thought of losing him, especially with their father going AWOL. He was beginning to wish they hadn't just passed on this job, there were jobs worth fighting for and there were others when you just had to count your losses and split. But he had never walked out on a job, and deep down he knew that hell would freeze over before he quit this one.

Sam, pissed off with his coolness, turned the key in the ignition and slammed his foot on the accelerator, the wheels of the Impala screeching angrily against the tarmac.

"You look like shit," he muttered shortly, as they pulled up outside the motel.

"Charming," said Dean, as he pushed open the door and climbed out, not even bothering to comment on Sam's aggressive driving.

"I'm gonna go to the library. See if I can dig up anything. Why don't you get some sleep. Maybe then you'll be back to your charming old self."

Dean pulled a face as Sam leant across the car, chucking him the room key.

* * *

"Later," he shouted, as he slid back behind the wheel and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Dean staring after him.

Sighing wearily, he turned back to the motel and walked towards the room, jabbing the key in the lock as he reached it. Pushing the door open, and throwing the keys on the table, he flopped down thankfully on to the nearest bed, his body sinking into the comfortable mattress gratefully. Closing his eyes, he let out a relieved groan.

A muffled thud, too soft for him to notice, reverberated from within the bathroom. The door stood ajar. Through the gap, a figure shifted, its shadow silently gliding across the wall. Dean clueless, continued to breathe steadily as sleep crept across his body, the anger that had coursed through his veins after leaving the psychologist's mellowing as he shifted slightly on the bed.

He was beginning to hate this job with a passion. The not knowing what they were really dealing with, the fact that he had to see a psychologist, who made him doubt himself and cloud his judgement, and the fact that he had to talk about things he'd long ago vowed never to talk about. He hated it.

Sam might be more forthcoming with his emotions, but he sure as hell wasn't. He loved his brother and his brother loved him. They both knew it. It was an unspoken truth. Sam knew he'd always be there to back him up so he didn't see why he'd ever have to say those three little words or talk about them. He had been happy with the way things were, no girly chick flick moments, just a guy's acceptance.

Talking about things he wasn't even comfortable thinking about himself, was unbearable. He didn't want to deal with them so why should he. They were better left buried deep within him where he couldn't mull them over. His life was complicated enough without having to deal with his own issues and insecurities, if that's what they really were. He was a hunter and a brother. Everything else had to fall by the way side. It would only cloud his judgement and in their line of business that would be a fatal error and he couldn't, no, he _wouldn't_ let that happen.

Speaking to Mr. Hyde was making him feel vulnerable, something he couldn't stand to be. The niggling feelings of guilt, bitterness and anger of years of uncertainty, hunting and abandonment would not be pushed away. He'd opened Pandora's Box and couldn't find the key to locking it all away again deep inside his heart.

He let out a hollow laugh. _'God if only Sammy could see me now,' _he thought bitterly, his tough guy image faltering as it struggled against the vulnerability that threatened to engulf him.

* * *

From within the bathroom, the figure grinned as it sniffed the air full of complicated feelings. _'This is a good one,' _it thought triumphantly. _'Finally someone worth my time.'_

Gazing out of the gap between the half-opened door, the demon, a tall dominating and intimidating being, could see Dean lying alone on the bed at the far side of the room. Smiling that malevolent and evil smile, showing a mouthful of yellowing teeth, the demon tilted its nose upwards as waves of confusion swam upon the air.

Sensing a deep but steady fear from within the young man, he concentrated, filtering the air as he tried to decipher the cause. His grin grew in triumph as the demon whispered, "Ahh, afraid of not being able to see what's coming before its too late. Clever boy."

The demon, dressed in a long black coat, drew himself up to his full seven foot height and closed his cold grey eyes. Rocking slightly, his influence crept over Dean who didn't notice a thing, his mind open and vulnerable.

Crawling deep into his mind, feeling the torn and conflicted emotions with ravenous delight, he laid his gentle whispering words onto Dean's unwitting subconscious. Stroking and caressing it persuasively, the demon began its painstaking and destructive work.


	9. Chapter 9: Blinded by Fear

Ok guys, here is Chapter 9. I hope you like it. Please R&R. Oh and as always I don't own the Winchester's more's the pity :).

Chapter 9:- Blinded by fear

_Dean pressed his eyes shut as Sam held his arms out towards him, blood dripping from his tortured young face, scratches and cuts etched into his body. A shadow stood behind him ready to strike as Sam shouted, "Why didn't you protect me? Why didn't you save me? Why didn't you see this coming?"_

_Dean held out his hands trying to reach him, trying to wrap his arms around him protectively, desperately, but Sam was out of reach. He stepped forwards trying to grab him, but with every step, his brother seemed further away. His heart pounded in his chest as he broke into a run, his bare feet beating down on the dusty earth beneath him. Sam was disappearing into the darkness quicker than he could run, but his screams he could still hear deafeningly._

_His eyes tore around the darkness as he stood panting, left alone, the darkness consuming him. "No!" he cried, as he threw out his arms, fumbling for anything in the darkness. His eyes widened, straining against the eternal blackness. "SAMMY!"_

Dean woke with a violent start, his body shaking uncontrollably, drenched in a cold sweat as fear clambered to seize control. His breathing was ragged as Sam's cries reverberated around his ears. His eyes, pressed firmly together, tried to block out the voice within him screaming that he couldn't protect his family that he would fail to see the danger before it was too late and he'd be left all alone.

As the shaking began to subside and his body tried to relax, he opened his eyes. Squinting against the darkness, he realised he must have been asleep for hours. Leaning over the bedside table, he fumbled for the lamp. Flicking it on, he froze. Turning it off and on again, he rubbed his eyes, panic beginning to well up in the pit of his stomach.

He heard someone open the door and enter the room. Squinting hard, he looked over desperately trying to make out who was standing before him, fear creeping up his spine making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Hey," a voice Dean recognised said, as he flicked on the light switch.

"Sam," Dean breathed.

"I see this place hasn't gotten any better," Sam smirked, as he lay a grocery bag down on the table, gazing disdainfully round the room.

Dean turned his head round the room. "Guess not," he replied, trying to keep his voice even as terror and anxiety seized control of his chest. He turned his head back to where he hoped Sam still was.

Sam, noticing Dean was gazing over his right shoulder, turned before looking back, concern crossing his face. "You okay?"

Dean noting the concern in his voice said, "Yeah man, course," trying to make his voice sound unworried. He angled his head slightly, praying he was looking at his brother, desperately trying to pinpoint him with his ears.

"Yeah, I'm not buying it," Sam said, looking down at his brother who was sat on the edge of his bed staring blankly at his chest. "What's wrong?"

"I umm … I've got something in my eyes," Dean said, making an attempt to rub them clean.

Sam waved a hand in front of his eyes, Dean not blinking. "Can't you see me?" Sam started in alarm, as he crouched down in front of his brother.

The demon, who had snuck out of the room on hearing the door handle turning, smiled from his hiding place in the bathroom. Closing his glinting eyes again, he allowed his mind to travel deep inside the elder Winchester's fears, whispering again to his subconscious and this time taking control of Dean's senses.

Dean jerked violently as Sam gently touched his brother's face. His ears rang with his brother's bloodcurdling screams. He flung himself off the bed as he fumbled around desperately trying to find him, pushing the darkness away.

Sam watched frozen in horror as his brother stumbled around, his hands flailing in the air as his face contorted with fear. He sat paralysed as Dean cried out, "Sammy where are you? I'll protect you; I won't let anything happen to you ever again!"

Within Dean, the demon grinned as he watched the barriers Dean had spent years trying to build, crumble as he toyed with his mind.

Sam, snapping out of his trance, lunged forwards, grabbing his brother and wrapping his arms around him, desperately trying to stop Dean's violent struggles.

"Dean, it's me, I'm here. I'm fine."

Dean continued to struggle violently against him as he yelled incoherently.

_He couldn't find Sam. Though the darkness had lifted slightly, he still couldn't find him. All he could hear were his frantic cries. He turned his head rapidly trying to pinpoint his brother. From the shadows, something jumped out tackling him to the floor, trying to tie him up. _"No get off me," _he yelled, struggling against the shadow that tried to overpower him. _"I have to save him, I have to help him."

"DEAN!" Sam shouted, as his brother's body writhed under his grip, his body drenched in anxious sweat. "Come on, wake up!"

He pinned his brother down, trying to restrain him as one of Dean's fists connected with his ribs, making him gasp for air. Reaching desperately for his duffle bag, which he had dropped by the door, with his leg, he dragged it towards him, tipping the contents out over the floor.

Kicking a set of handcuffs towards him, he dragged a flailing Dean across the room to the old iron radiator and cuffed him to the pipe, wiping the beads of sweat off his own brow. Tying rope around his brother's feet as one collided viciously with his stomach; he fell back from him, exhausted. He eyed his brother cautiously, who struggled against the restrains in vain, cursing as he nursed his bruised lower ribs.

The demon within Dean smelled the delicious sensation of absolute fear as its victim's body convoluted and contorted. Sighing contently, it released control of Dean's senses allowing him to collapse with exhaustion.

From inside the bathroom, the demon opened its eyes grinning, its hunger fulfilled if only for a short time. Taking one last look through the crack in the door, it swept out of the bathroom window and into the night, leaving Dean lying weak and broken on the floor, silent tears running freely down his face.

* * *

Looking down at his brother's drained face, Sam watched anxiously as Dean fell quiet. Crawling slowly towards him, nursing his injured ribs, he cupped Dean's face in his hands. 

"Dean. Dean! You okay buddy?"

Dean cracked his eyes open, desperate to believe his brother was alive. His whole body ached as he shuddered against the darkness that eclipsed his vision. "I've felt better," he coughed, listening closely to Sam, trying to make out from his voice whether he was hurt. "You okay? I saw the demon coming towards you."

Sam watched, torn as Dean looked straight passed him. Trying not to let sadness show in his voice, not wanting to upset his brother anymore, he braved a smile, saying, "I'm fine, apart from the well timed blows you landed on me."

"But the demon that killed mum and Jess, it was about to jump you!"

"Dean," Sam sighed. "There was no demon. I came into the room and you freaked."

But … I thought … The other demon?" he muttered, remembering the reason they were here.

"Don't worry about it. I think you must have played your role as bait a little too well," he grinned, patting Dean on the back reassuringly.

"Oh great, now I'm playing the damsel in distress! Give me a tutu and pigtails and you've got yourself your very own sister."

Sam grinned, thinking, _'Sarcasm, great. He'll be fine.'_

"Now if I unchain you, do you promise to behave?" he said, his voice light and as happy as the situation allowed.

Dean made to swat him with the back of his hand, stopping as the chain tautened around his wrist. Grinning, he said, "Let me up man, my ass is killing me."

Sam, complying, scoured the floor for the key to the handcuffs. Undoing them gently, he turned his attention to the rope that bound his brother's legs, cutting through it with a knife. He lifted him to his feet. "How you doing?" he muttered as Dean tried to steady himself using the wall and his brother for support.

"This blindness thing is a bitch," he muttered in reply, as he tried to find his centre, his body still disorientated from the assault on his senses.

"I bet," Sam smiled sadly. "I reckon we should get you checked out at the hospital."

"Hell no," Dean started jumpily. "That would be like walking back into the lion's den after taking a pounding!"

Sam grinned. "Nice uses of simile, but you don't get a say in this."

"But-"

"No buts. We need to get those eyes sorted out. If we don't, you won't be in any state to hunt – ever."

Dean, who has opened his mouth to protest, shut it sharply, thinking _'What will I do if I can't hunt._'

Sam smiled, knowing he'd hit a nerve. His brother would be unbearable to live with if he couldn't hunt, and what would he do. He needed a back up, and his father wasn't exactly reliable.

Against Dean's protests that he could manage to walk across the parking lot by himself, Sam walked beside him, nudging him around obstacles as he lead the way to the Impala.

Opening the passenger side door, he pushed Dean into the seat, closing the door behind him as he walked round to the driver's door. Starting up the engine he put it into gear and pulled out onto the main road heading for the hospital.


	10. Chapter 10: NO!

_Okey dokie, here's the next chappie. Hope you like, please R&R. :)_

Chapter 10: - NO! 

Sam guided Dean into a cubicle as his older brother tried to shrug him off irritably. He couldn't believe that in the space of a few short minutes, his brother had become totally dependent on him.

Dean sat down on the bed moodily. He hated the sympathy evident in his brother's voice. He could feel Sam's penetrating gaze on him constantly, his body ready to jump if he needed anything.

"Quit it," he finally snapped, feeling along the bed for his brother.

"Quit what?"

"Looking at me like that! You're driving me crazy."

Sam looked offended and embarrassed. "I wasn't-"

"Sam, just stop," he hissed through gritted teeth. Not being able to see was bad enough without his brother becoming overprotective. He was the older brother. That was his job. To protect Sam, not the other way round. Yet for some sick and twisted reason, their roles were being forcibly reversed.

"Hello," said the doctor, as he pushed back the curtain, breaking the suffocating silence which had fallen between the two brothers. "What can I do for you?"

The doctor was of medium build with black hair and a slightly upturned nose, his eyes a hazy blue. Glancing at the clipboard he held in his hands he turned to smile at the younger of the two men before him.

Dean was silent as Sam explained briefly in a more mainstream and family friendly way, the version of events that had led them here, events that had left his brother blind.

The doctor nodded, listening intently as he asked questions about the injuries Dean had sustained, looking closely at the healing eyebrow and bruising that covered his body, courtesy of Meg.

Grimacing slightly, Dean turned away from the pair. What with being beaten to a pulp by a girl, even if she was a crazy assed demon and now being driven crazy by something else, all in all it had been a very long week.

After listening to Sam's cover story, the doctor attended to Dean, looking into his eyes with a pen light. Clicking his tongue between his teeth, he took his time checking him over before letting out a sigh.

He turned to Sam, who was looking at him anxiously, before looking back at Dean saying, "I can't see anything that can be causing your blindness. Your eyes are functioning normally. They're responsive to light, but you still say you can't see anything?"

"No, just darkness," Dean sighed despondently.

"Well then, it could be a range of things not related to you eyes which seem to be in good working order. It's not unheard of for a person to become temporarily blind after serious trauma as a defensive mechanism by the body. Sometimes the sight of harrowing scenes, blood, devastation, mutilation, etcetera, can cause the mind to try to block out these images resulting, in some cases, in temporary blindness. Most often such things happen to young children, normally affecting their ability to speak, but it can also affect adults. Given the fact you and your brother have recently been beaten to a pulp by a group of thugs this may well be the case."

"But I've seen far worse things and been hurt a lot more in the past and have never experienced this. I'm not squeamish," Dean protested. He wasn't a coward and he didn't want the thought to even be considered, especially seeing as Sam was standing right next to him. He couldn't bear the thought of Sam thinking him so weak and vulnerable. It was bad enough already.

The doctor looked at him closely. "Dean if this is the case, this recent incident might have been the final straw. I see by these records you are seeing Mr. Hyde."

Dean flushed. "It's not because of this, trust me."

"Yes, but if you've been talking and reliving painful memories about your past, it might be the reason. The body and mind can only deal with so much before it hits crisis point and begins to shut down. Your body's telling you something. I think you need to listen to it."

"Like what?" Sam asked as Dean scoffed.

"Maybe you need to take it easy for a while. Deal with your past before you race towards your future."

Dean continued to look unsure. _'This has to be the demon, not me,'_ he thought desperately. _'I love my job; it's what keeps me going. It has to be this demon! Doesn't it?' _The question, once considered, began to eat away at him as he became unsure, not knowing what to think. He tried to shrug the feeling off as Sam looked at him, thinking the same.

"Without more tests we can't rule out other causes," the doctor continued. "I'd like to send you to a consultant."

Dean jumped to his feet. "No. I just want to go home."

Sam tried to argue, but one look from Dean made him shut his mouth and concede. He knew his brother too well. He'd never get him to go. He'd already dragged him this far, anymore and his brother would turn and run. Considering the state of things, he realised he'd have to back down. Dean needed him more than he'd ever admit and he wouldn't allow his brother to push him away, not now, not ever.

* * *

"I think we should phone dad," said Sam gently, as he tried to guide Dean out of the hospital entrance without getting his head bitten off.

Dean didn't seem to protest, and instead turned his head away as Sam drew out his phone and punched in the number. They stood in silence as Sam impatiently listened to the endless ringing. Finally slamming it shut, he sighed.

"Let me guess, no answer," Dean muttered bitterly.

Sam shook his head, forgetting Dean couldn't see it.

"What a surprise," Dean continued, letting out a hollow laugh. "Well he never answered or returned our calls when I almost died, or when you lost Jess. Nothing ever changes."

Sam looked at him, taken aback by his harsh words. He'd never heard him talk about their father like that. If anything they should have been his words. Dean had always been so confident in his actions and motives.

* * *

The night was dark and heavy. Dean had hardly said two words to Sam in the car on the way home from the hospital. Instead, he had pretended to look out the window lost in thought. Before Sam had even stopped the car in front of the motel Dean had pushed open the door, struggling out.

Sam, leaping out and rushing to his brother's side, guided him towards their room. Opening the door, Dean had gone straight over to the bed and thrown himself down, facing the wall, leaving Sam to research what it was they were dealing with alone. He spent hours scanning through endless pages of demonic myths and legends, finally finding a possibility. Noting down the details, _Shabriri – a Jewish demon that strikes people blind,_ he glanced at the clock. "Two am," he groaned, rubbing his hands against his tired face, his eyes so heavy they threatened to close there and then. Shutting the laptop, he crawled over to his own bed, too tired to even undress.

The motel room was silent, but for the steady deep breathing of the pair as sleep claimed them. Neither heard the demon return, taking up the same position it had used before, behind the bathroom door.

* * *

_Dean walked through a field of long grass, the gentle summer breeze whipping through his hair as the fierce sun beat down upon him. The sky was a bright and brilliant blue as he looked around him seeing no one._

_Cutting his way through the grass and down the gentle slope, he found himself in front of an old white-washed church. Leaning against the door as he turned the old iron handle, it creaked open, a blast of cool still air assaulting his senses._

_Looking down at himself as he stepped over the threshold, he found himself attired in white linen trousers and a white T-shirt, his feet bare. As they hit the cold solid floor, a feeling of apprehension and unease settled over him. Looking around, he saw a young man, no older than himself, sitting in the front pew, his back towards him._

_Silence filled the air as he walked down the aisle, seeing with alarm two chestnut coloured coffins standing before the altar. All that could be heard was the gentle slap of bare feet on wood. As he drew level with the seated man, he glanced down at him. His jaw dropped open as he looked down, seeing himself. He was dressed in a black suit, his head bowed, grief-stricken tears trickling down his pale cheeks._

_Fear gripped Dean's heart as he turned to look at the coffins before him. His breath caught in his chest as he took the few remaining steps towards the altar. Climbing the stair, he held his breath, swallowing hard against the panic that was slowly strangling him as he looked down._

_Letting out an involuntary gasp that his other self couldn't or wouldn't hear, he stared down at his younger brother's chalk white face through tear-filled eyes. Turning to look into the other coffin, his body shook violently as he stared down at his ashen-faced father. The realisation that the bodies of his family lay before him made him feel physically sick._

_A shadow appeared before him. Looking up as it fell across his brother's peaceful face, the figure cackled. His eyes widened as he saw before him the demon his family had been hunting for over twenty years. Looking from his father to his brother, his face creased with grief and anger. As the emotion surged through his body, he leapt at the thing that had destroyed his life._

"NO!"_ he screamed, as he slammed the demon against the altar beating his fists against its chest._

Sam shot up in his bed, grabbing the '45 off the bedside table, totally disorientated. "JESUS CHRIST, WHAT'S GOING ON!" he yelled, jumping off the bed, stumbling as he looked round the room every nerve on edge as he tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

"What's … what's," he mumbled, trying to get a grasp on his bearings. His eyes flew to Dean as he let out another strangled cry. "Shit, Dean," he cursed, chucking the gun aside as he tried to shake off his confusion. He leant over his brother, whose eyes flew open as he fought against the bed sheets. "Dean, snap out of it. Come on buddy. I'm here. It's just a dream; it's just a bad dream," he said, trying to gain his brother's unfocused attention.

The EMF on the dresser beside them screamed wildly, catching Sam's attention. Realisation dawned on his tired face. Grabbing hold of the knife that Dean kept beneath his pillow, his senses alert, he spun around, looking for the demon.

Behind him, Dean continued to struggle half awake, half asleep. "I'll kill you," he yelled, clobbering Sam over the head.

"Shit Dean," Sam groaned as he ducked, avoiding another blow, looking for the cuffs and rope he'd used earlier.

Tying Dean to the bed, Sam turned, drawing the '45 off the floor as his eyes flitted around the room, the hairs on his neck standing on end. Creeping towards the bathroom, his face fixed with controlled panic, he pushed back the door.

* * *

The demon within Dean grinned as it watched the younger Winchester fumble around in disorientation, though had trouble biting back its annoyance as he advanced on its body's hiding place.

Withdrawing its influence from Dean slightly so it could regain control of its own body, it silently swept out of the bathroom window and glanced back through the half drawn curtains as Sam appeared, kicking back the door, his gun raised.

Shifting to the window which afforded a view of the main room, it watched as Sam walked back towards his brother, his shoulders slumped. The demon grinned, still able to taste the sense of suffocating fear that filled the room, licking his lips hungrily as Sam made his way back over to his brother carrying a jug.

"You're gonna really hate me for doing this," it heard the young man say to his disorientated brother. Watching, it laughed as Sam threw the jug full of water over Dean's face, before disappearing into the night.


	11. Chapter 11: The Phone Call

_Ok here's another chapter. Hope you like. Its a bit of a linking chapter so please bear with me. Please R&R._

Chapter 11: - The Phone call.

As Sam pushed back the door, his gun raised, his heart pulsated with adrenaline. Creeping towards the shower curtain, his arm outstretched, he paused, his hand closing round the fabric. Holding his breath, he ripped it back, his gun poised and ready to shoot.

Letting out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, he sighed with relief as all was clear. He dropped his gun to his side, wiping his brow with his free hand. Sitting down on the side of the bath, he leant forwards resting his head in his hands, the gun pressing against his temple. Shaking his head he couldn't quite comprehend the fact that Dean was having worse nightmares that he was.

Picking up a jug which rested by the tap, he had an idea. Filling it with cold water, he thought,_ 'If talking wasn't gonna help Dean, maybe a wake up call would.'_

As he walked back into the bedroom, Dean still struggling against his restraints, he felt torn. "You're really gonna hate me for doing this," he sighed, looking down at his squirming brother, "But I gotta do it."

He took a deep breath as he threw the water over him, watching as Dean gasped and spluttered.

He sat down on the bed, brushing the wet hair out of his brother's eyes. "It's over," he said, as Dean fell back into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes forgetting he couldn't see. Groaning as his head pounded furiously against the walls of his skull, he tried to roll over, but stopped feeling metal cutting into his wrists and rope rubbing roughly against his ankles. 

Sam, who had been up most of the night keeping an eye on him, looked over from his place behind the laptop. "Hey you're awake."

"No shit," Dean croaked. "Mind me asking why I'm lying in a pool of water? I know I didn't wet the bed."

Sam grinned despite himself. "Don't you remember?"

"Jog my memory," Dean grimaced, as he tried to move out of the puddle. "Oh and while you're at it would you mind getting these things off me!"

"Yeah sorry man," Sam laughed, rising from the table and walking towards him, Dean following his movements with his ears. "The demon made a surprise appearance again."

Dean tried to remember what had happened the night before through his banging headache. Wincing, he groaned remembering the vivid nightmare he had been caught up in.

"Dean?" Sam asked worriedly, as his brother's face became pale.

"My head's killing me," Dean muttered, kneading his temples with his fists. "Keep your voice down."

Sam nodded. "I'm not surprised you've got a headache, considering that thing was inside there with you last night."

"Excuse me!" Dean exclaimed, looking up at his brother who he could feel standing before him, instantly regretting it as a wave of nausea passed over him.

"Well it seemed to have ultimate control over you. You were screaming."

"Screaming? I've never screamed in my life!" Dean said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Exactly," Sam nodded in agreement. "The thing had to be controlling you somehow. I couldn't wake you up. And seeing as demons possess …"

"Man this can't be happening," Dean groaned, his head throbbing violently as this new information began to sink in. "It's one thing when an evil son of a bitch walks around with your face killing people, but it's another thing having one inside your skin. Can this day get any worse!"

Sam smiled weakly. He handed Dean a coffee he'd bought from the machine in the motel reception half an hour earlier, having finally dared to leave his brother's side in order to get some fresh air. "Drink this; I'll make us some breakfast."

He walked over to the kitchenette, grabbing a box of cereals off the counter.

Dean slowly got up off the bed, feeling his way towards the table. Sliding into a seat he asked, "What are we having?"

"Lucky Charms," Sam smiled, taking the seat opposite his brother. He poured out a bowlful and sloshed on the milk before pushing it towards Dean. Hesitating uncomfortably as Dean couldn't see the spoon which lay on the table; he reached for it, pushing it into his brother's outstretched hand.

Dean smiled thankfully as his stomach groaned with hunger, trying to ignore the awkward silence which had descended between them.

"Dean," said Sam, nervous as to his brother's reaction. "I have to go and see that psychologist. I have to draw this demon away from you before it kills you."

Dean choked on his cereals, spraying the table with speckles of milk.

"I can't let this continue," Sam reasoned, trying to ignore his brother's reaction. "Look at you, you're a mess." He stopped, cringing inwardly at his last statement, as his brother flushed red.

Coughing violently as he struggled to breathe, Dean gasped, "Hell no!" Recovering slightly, he continued, "One of us needs to be in a condition to kill this son of a bitch. I can't, I _won't_ let it destroy you too."

"Look, you've always been there saving my ass. It's about time I returned the favour."

"Sammy listen to me you can't do this. Hell save my ass sometime, but don't get yourself killed in the process. Don't go up against this thing, it screws with your mind till you can't separate dreams from reality. You saw me last night. Use your brain." Dean reached forwards for his brother's arms, trying to shake some sense into him.

"Look, I'm not gonna stand by and let this demon tear you apart," Sam almost shouted, trying to hold back all emotion from his voice. He couldn't let anything else happen to him. Losing Dean after losing everyone else he had ever cared about would destroy him. He couldn't, no, he wouldn't let it happen. Dean was all he had left except his father. If he lost him he didn't know what he would do. He'd almost lost him once already, he wasn't about to let it happen again.

"Sam no, I don't care what happens to me as long as you're there to kill this nasty son of a bitch."

"I'm going after this demon Dean whether you like it or not!" he said stubbornly.

"Sam," Dean tried to reason, as his brother jumped up to his feet, knocking into the table, "Please!"

"I don't want to hear it. I'll speak to you later. Don't leave this room," Sam ordered, yanking on his jacket and opening the door. Looking back at his brother, who had struggled to his feet trying to stop him, he felt a pang of guilt. Shrugging it off defiantly, he closed the door on him and made to run across the parking lot as a light drizzly rain began to fall.

* * *

Hearing the door slam shut, Dean cursed under his breath, slamming his fists down hard on the table in frustration. He needed help; he couldn't let Sam go after this thing alone. 

Fumbling around for his phone, his breakfast lying abandoned, he flicked it open and began to punch in his father's number as best he could. Stopping half way through, he thought of their parting words in Chicago. Cancelling the call, he rubbed his hand against his aching temple. Knowing he couldn't call him because of the danger it posed to them all, he let out a sigh, racking his brain for someone else to call, trying to remember numbers.

Thinking hard, he dialled several numbers, one after another, trying to find someone who could help them. Sighing dejectedly after twenty minutes of negative responses, he flicked the phone shut in annoyance. Why was it when you didn't need help, there was always someone there anyway and when you actually needed help everyone seemed to disappear? One of his contacts was out of action, laying in a hospital bed somewhere down in Kansas, hurt. Another was in the middle of a hunt so couldn't get to them in time and the third, like his father, wasn't answering his calls.

Trying to think of someone, anyone who could possibly help, he dialled Alex's number. He didn't know what she could do seeing as they'd only met because of one of Sam's visions, but she had developed a talent for reading people's innermost thoughts and he decided she was better than nothing.

Before he thought better of it, he dialled the number, waiting with bated breath for her to answer.

* * *

Alex lay fast asleep snuggled up under the bed sheets of the motel bedroom she'd been staying in since she'd met up with John, when her mobile phone rang, vibrating loudly on the dresser. Leaning over sleepily, she picked it up and flicked it open. 

"Hello," she answered sleepily, rubbing her eyes as she pushed herself up onto the pillows.

Dean, on the other end of the line, breathed a slow sigh of relief, though it couldn't quite quash the feeling that he wished he hadn't called her. Dean paused, not knowing what to say, which was a new experience for him.

"Ehh … hi. It's Dean … Winchester," he managed finally.

"Oh," Alex smiled, relaxing immediately. "I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again."

There was an awkward silence, as the line cracked.

"Hello! You still there?" Alex asked nervously, fidgeting on the bed.

"Yeah," Dean breathed. "Umm where are you?"

"Somewhere in Missouri. Same place you father left me," she muttered distractedly, pushing the bedclothes off her as she struggled to sit up.

"You've seem my father?" Dean exclaimed, finding his voice.

Alex cursed under her breath, wishing she hadn't opened her big mouth. "Umm yeah, for like five minutes," she said uneasily.

"When?"

"About a week ago. I'd just arrived when he said he had to leave. Said he thought-"

"Thought what?"

"Thought you and Sam might have walked into a trap."

Dean was silent.

"Dean?" Alex asked tentatively, hearing his breathing. "Dean, are you there?"

Dean sat at the table, pondering his father's absence with Sam and himself, but his willingness to make time for Alex.

"You called me for something," Alex said, trying to change the conversation. "Why do you want to know where I am?"

"It doesn't matter," Dean said evasively.

Alex waited silently, knowing Dean hadn't finished.

"Well it does but …"

"What?" she pressed gently, trying to stifle a yawn as she glanced down at the alarm clock.

Swallowing his pride, he said, "I need your help."

"My help!" Alex blurted out incredulously, struggling to believe her ears.

"Look," he said, his cheeks flushing. "Sam is trying to hunt a demon on his own." He swallowed hard against the glass-like pride that welled up inside him. "I can't help him. I need someone to watch his back, to protect him. "You … that day on the beach back in North Carolina … you saved our butts and when I was crushed under those slabs … Look, there's no one else I trust. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

Alex, who'd been listening in disbelief, muttered "Demons?"

"Don't get all sceptical on my ass now," Dean muttered, a note of pleading in his voice, which Alex couldn't miss.

"Where are you?" she said, as she stumbled around the bedroom looking for her jeans.

"Iowa. Stepfordsville," Dean added with a hollow laugh.

Alex grinned. "That bad ehh?"

"Yeah."

"Where exactly," she continued, pulling on a T-shirt and fastening the belt of her jeans, stubbing her toe in the process. "Ouch," she hissed, dancing on the spot.

"What are you doing?" Dean laughed, listening as Alex's voice grew louder and fainter, hearing clanging and crashing on the other end, Alex cursing under her breath.

"Getting dressed," she grinned, crawling under the bed to retrieve a shoe.

"Oh sorry, did I wake you up?" Dean muttered with a mischievous smile.

"Yes you did. So where are you?"

"Camden. How fast can you get here?"

Alex opened out a map onto her bed, studying it quickly. "If I set off now I guess I could be there by early evening. That is if I don't get lost."

Dean laughed. "I'll send psychic boy after you if you do."

Grinning, she said, "Tonight then," before putting the phone down.


	12. Chapter 12: Visions

Ok here's the next chapter. Please R&R. Thanks for all the reviews so far. It's getting good now, promise :) 

Chapter 12: - Visions.

Sam had stormed straight out to the library after leaving Dean. Seeing what the demon could do, he wasn't going to go into that psychologist's office unprepared. His normal nightmares and visions were intense enough without having some demon mixing up everything else in his life.

Having sat for hours thumbing through every book he could lay his hands on, his anger and frustration venting remorselessly, he'd ended up in a dank grimy bar, just the type Dean liked.

Knocking back several bottles of beer in quick succession, his anger began to dissipate, the steady influence of alcohol slowly softening the edges of his emotion, a calmness washing over him.

Resting his head in his hands, he racked his brains not knowing what to do. He couldn't find anything remotely useful in the books he'd scoured or on the internet. All the information he had found was to do with specific demons, he wasn't even sure what they were dealing with having not even seen the darn thing. He'd only seen its influence through Dean's disturbing reactions. He was at a complete loss as to how to tackle their current situation. Dean couldn't see which made him totally dependent on himself, yet he didn't have the answers. How could he help his brother if they didn't have a clue as to what they were dealing with?

Stumbling down off the bar stool, feeling the excesses of alcohol on his rebelling limbs, he headed towards the restroom. Getting drunk wasn't going to solve his problems this time. He'd left his brother alone all day, anything could have happened to him. He cursed himself for being so stubborn as he leant over the wash basin, splashing cold water over his face, and looked at his drawn tired reflection in the grimy mirror.

His head began to ache._ 'Too much alcohol and not enough to eat,'_ he thought, as he winced, the pain rapidly intensifying. Letting out a gasp of pain, he doubled over, leaning heavily on the sink as a powerful vision seized control of him.

_FLASH:_

_Sam, dressed in a smart black suit, stood inside a small white-washed church. Looking round, he saw his brother seated in a pew also dressed in black._

_FLASH:_

_Sam stood beside his seated brother looking in horror as he saw Dean was crying._

_FLASH:_

_He stood before the altar, staring at a coffin mounted on the raised platform, flowers carefully displayed around the casket._

_FLASH: _

_Looking down, he saw his own ashen-faced body staring back up at him from the coffin._

_FLASH:_

_He saw himself screaming at his brother that he was okay, but Dean couldn't seem to see or hear him._

_FLASH:_

_It was dark outside. Dean was sitting on the floor of their pink vile motel room, tears running down his cheeks, a gun lying in his lap._

_FLASH:_

_A gun shot rang out piercing the silence._

_FLASH:_

_Dean lay at his feet, blood running freely down his face from his temple._

_FLASH:_

_Sam was sat in a church next to his father, his face white and grim, his body hunched over with grief. Looking down, he held in his hands the photo he kept in his wallet, a picture of himself and Dean hugging each other roughly, grinning insanely at the camera, behind which, their father had stood._

Sam crouched by the sink, clutching his head in his hands as tears carved their way down his cheeks.

"Oww," he groaned, his stomach lurching with nausea. He leant his throbbing head against the cold wash basin as the vision slowly relinquished its hold, the sound of the gun shot still ringing in his ears.

Panic overtook him as he realised what was going to happen.

'_I've got to draw this demon away from him_,' he choked inwardly. _'He can't die because of me. I won't let it happen again.'_

He crumpled to the floor, shaking violently as wave after wave of fear-induced sickness racked his tall slender frame.

* * *

Dean sat alone waiting for his brother to return as darkness approached. He'd made several attempts to go after him, but hadn't got as far as the front door before finding intolerable difficulty.

He'd got as far as trying to find his shoes before smashing his fists against the door in total frustration. He was useless to his brother and useless to himself like this and it was driving him crazy.

He'd only just started to get his bearings in the room, and he couldn't think of how he'd cope if he left it. Sam would kill him if he'd gone out and got himself lost and he wasn't in the mood for a fight. He just prayed Alex wouldn't take much longer. He needed someone to talk to before he lost his mind completely.

Contemplating what he would do for dinner, his stomach groaning with hunger at the very thought, he heard a knock at the door. Fumbling across the room, using the walls and furniture to guide him, he turned the handle cautiously, drawing a gun out of his back pocket.

"Hi," Alex's voice said, after a prolonged pause.

"Oh hi," he said in relief, discreetly sliding the gun back into the belt at the back of his jeans.

"Well you gonna let me in or am I spending the night on the porch," she said jokingly as he continued to stare at her.

"Course, come in," he said, stepping back hoping he'd left enough room for her to pass.

Alex ducked thankfully into the room, shrugging off her jacket. Looking round at him smiling, she asked, "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

"No reason," Dean said, trying to act normal as he moved his hands across the wall, feeling for the light switch. "That better?"

"Yeah, I guess," Alex replied quizzically. "You okay?"

"Umm that depends on how you look at things," Dean smiled, letting out a hollow laugh as he closed the door and followed her by the sound of her voice. Forgetting the position of the table and chairs, he collided with them. Losing his balance, he stumbled.

Alex lunged forwards, arms outstretched, catching him in mid-fall. "What's wrong?" she said, concern choking her voice.

"I'm fine, I've got it, I don't need any help," Dean said stubbornly, brushing her off as he regained his balance and used the table to guide him towards the bed.

Alex watched in shock, not daring to believe this was the same cheeky-assed guy she had met two months ago. Hesitantly, she waved a hand in front of his face, her mouth dropping open as he showed no reaction and no recognition.

"What the hell happened in Chicago," she gasped before she could stop herself.

Dean moved his hand up towards his right eyelid. "You not gonna do your freaky ass mind reading," he said, an ill attempt at humour.

"No," Alex muttered, averting her eyes. "I'd rather hear the truth from you if that's alright."

"I guess we got a little cut up," Dean continued, tracing the healing cuts with his finger.

"But-" Alex said, gesturing towards his eyes, struggling for words.

Dean cut across her, not liking the concern seeping from her voice. "I need your help. Sam's gonna go after this demon we've been hunting alone, and I'm not in any position to stop him."

Alex, sitting down on the bed opposite him, listened in silence.

"You there?" Dean said nervously.

"Yeah," Alex whispered, tears creeping into her eyes, which she desperately tried to blink away.

Dean reached his hands out to touch her, making sure it wasn't all in his imagination like so many other things of late. His hands felt their way across her face, taking in the smooth skin, the defined cheekbones, her glistening eyes and full mouth, framed by her curly hair. Alex bit back tears, sitting still as his hands painted their own picture of her face.

"So how come you found my father, when I couldn't?" Dean joked, trying to break the tension filling the room.

Alex grinned, forcing herself to make the effort. "You men can't find anything, even when the thing you're looking for is right under your nose.

Dean smiled that old cheeky smile she remembered, her body relaxing for the first time since her arrival as memories flooded back to her.

"Hey that's not true," he said indignantly.

Alex raised her eyebrow, snorting "Yeah whatever!" Looking at him, she asked, "So what happened?"

"When? You talking about recently or in Chicago?"

"Umm both I guess," she said with embarrassment.

"Well Sam felt like some female company. His 'girlfriend' turned out to be a bitch. Tied us up."

Alex raised her eyebrow with a smirk.

Dean sensing it grinned, saying, "Nothing kinky, honest."

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

Dean laughed. "Nah, seriously she was a Class A bitch. Had a thing for Sammy though, just didn't like me or our father. She used us to get to him; I guess that's why he left you in Missouri."

"Sounds about right," she said. "So where are they?"

Dean glanced at the floor. "Dad's god knows where as per usual and Sam … well I haven't a clue.

"Then how-" Alex started in confusion, not knowing where she fitted into this whole situation.

"We had a fight," he said cutting in.

"Oh. So umm … what happened to your … eyes?" Alex asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "I dunno. One minute I could see, the next I couldn't, the doctor said there's nothing wrong with them but-"

Before Dean could finish, the door handle twisted and Sam flew through the door and into the room.

"Dean, I have to talk to you," he half-shouted breathlessly, having raced back to the motel as soon as his vision had passed and his strength had returned. "Alex!" he started, in shock, as his eyes fell on her sitting next to his brother.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, as he looked between the pair.

Alex glanced at Dean, waiting for him to answer. He flushed as an awkward silence fell between them.

"You called her!" Sam said incredulously.

"I needed someone to back your ass up," said Dean, jokingly, though all could sense an edge of bitterness in his voice, knowing it was usually his job to back his brother up.

"We have to leave," Sam stated, shaking off the shock of Alex's unexpected arrival as his head throbbed mildly, reminding him of his vision.

"What?" Dean exclaimed, at Sam's sudden outburst.

"NOW," Sam pressed, picking up the nearest duffle bag, and beginning to ram clothes into it. Dean listened to the sounds of packing in silence, not moving.

Alex looked between them in bewilderment. Neither spoke just continued what they were doing.

"What the hell is going on here? Would someone please mind filling me in!" she cried out in frustration finally, throwing her hands down on the bed in exasperation.

The last time she'd been in a motel room with them, the place had been shot to shit. Sam's insistent packing did nothing to settle the unease that was beginning to build inside her as an uneasy tension settled between the two brothers.

"Well!" she pushed.

Sam, finally throwing the bag aside frustrated by the lack of action in the other two, slumped down into the nearest chair. "Would you like to do the honours?" he said sarcastically, looking at Dean who was trying to find him by listening to his movements.

Dean groaned but said, "Okay. To cut a long story short, a demon is killing victims by using their darkest fears against them. The victims have all died from anxiety related heart attacks after being made to live their worst nightmares. We're trying to stop it."

"How?" Alex asked, dreading the answer.

There was a tense silence as Dean tried to figure out an easy way to answer her. "I used myself as bait," he said, deciding on blunt honesty. It wasn't the first time strange things had happened around Alex. She had had some experience with this kind of thing before and he just hoped she'd thank him for not being dishonest and vague.

"You used yourself as bait!" she exclaimed. "Are you mad?"

"Yes he is," Sam cut in, before Dean had a chance to open his mouth. "But this can wait. We have to go now!" he continued impatiently, desperation tingeing his voice.

"What's got you all freaked out?" Dean muttered, hearing the controlled panic in his brother's voice.

"We've got to get out of here. Move it!" Sam almost shouted, taking his brother by the arm forcibly.

"Get off me, I'm not a rag doll," Dean snapped, trying to shake Sam off. "I'm not going anywhere whilst people are dying, not without a good reason and not while I'm like this," he said, gesturing to his eyes.

"Just trust me okay," Sam almost cried, his body shaking with adrenaline, as his eyes scoured the room.

"Tell me," Dean muttered stubbornly, rising to his feet and looking to where he hoped was his brother.

Alex shifted uncomfortably also rising off the bed. "Shall I leave you guys to it?"

"NO!" Dean and Sam snapped, still looking at one another, the tension between them crackling.

Alex sank back down, turning her head away uncomfortably, wishing she was anywhere else. She didn't fancy having front row seats to a full scale argument.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Sam snapped angrily.

"Why won't you tell me the truth!" Dean countered, the tension so thick between them, Alex thought she could have cut it with a knife.

"You don't need to know!" Sam exclaimed, whilst he inwardly screamed for his brother to just do what he asked.

"Just give me a straight answer," Dean said, drawing himself up to his full height as his temper flared up in his chest, making his blood boil.

Alex looked at the pair nervously, having never seen them so confrontational. The air was super charged with testosterone, making her tremble involuntarily. The pair stood barely an inch apart, their tall frames casting a long shadow over the room, a truly intimidating sight.

"I can't" Sam muttered earnestly, a weakness breaking into his voice as images of his vision overwhelmed him. _'I won't lose you,'_ he thought desperately. _'I don't want you to panic. Why can't you just trust me on this and do what I ask.'_

Dean was silent. He didn't know what had spooked Sam, but he didn't like it. He just wished his brother wouldn't keep hiding these big secrets from him. He hated fighting with him.

Alex looked at Sam as anguish and deep hidden fear etched its way across his face, perspiration shining on his skin. She believed him, just by that look, but Dean couldn't see it. All he could sense was desperation in his voice.

Sam, seeing his brother wouldn't back down, turned away from him, his anger exhausting him. Shaking his head, he stormed towards the door, slamming it shut behind him as he threw himself down on the step, pounding his fists against his forehead.

Dean flinched as the door slammed hard against the frame, the wall shuddering with the force of Sam's anger.

"Go after him," Dean said turning to Alex. "Please, I need his ass in one piece."

Alex nodded and squeezed his arm in acknowledgement before following Sam out of the room, leaving Dean standing alone.


	13. Chapter 13: Something's Wrong

Hiya guys. Well I know this is short but I promise you'll understand why when you read Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 13: - Something's Wrong.

Closing the door behind her, she found Sam sitting on the step, his head resting in his hands. Quietly taking a seat beside him, she moved her hand up to his back gently.

"What happened?" she whispered, after a long silence.

"It's what's going to happen," Sam muttered through gritted teeth.

"Vision?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "As always."

Alex could feel the sting of bitterness that crept its way into his mouth. She smiled sadly, putting her arm round his shoulder, as Sam gazed at her. He automatically leant in closer, shivering slightly in the cool night air.

Silence fell over them, as away in the shadows of the wood that skirted the motel, the demon stood watching, grinning.

* * *

"So how are we gonna get rid of this demon," Alex finally asked.

"We?"

"Yes _we_! I didn't drive all the way across state for nothing. And I'm sure as heck not gonna leave you two the way things are right now."

"This isn't your fight," Sam said. "Dean shouldn't have called you."

Alex pursed her lips in annoyance. "That's exactly what your father said."

"You've seen dad?" Sam started, uncannily like Dean. He looked into her eyes with sparkling interest.

"Yes," Alex smiled, shaking her head as he continued to look at her with a penetrating gaze, desperate to know more.

"We met up just before he left for Chicago."

Sam looked surprised and slightly hurt.

"Don't pull that face," she said lightly, shoving him gently. "That's just what Dean did when I told him."

Sam forced himself to grin. "Now we wouldn't want that would we!"

She laughed. "No, one of him is bad enough. She shivered against the chill night air as they sat huddled together on the step. Pushing herself to her feet, she offered Sam a hand. "You fancy a walk?"

He took it willingly, sliding to his feet with ungainly ease.

"So who am I babysitting?" she smiled, as they meandered down the gravel path which ran all the way along the grassy bank. "You or Dean?"

Sam laughed. "Definitely Dean. He's gonna be a right unbearable and miserable bastard if we don't sort him out, and I don't much fancy having to help him tie his shoe laces or help him into the shower.

Alex's cheeks flushed pink, remembering the last time she'd accidentally walked in on Dean taking a shower. Looking up at Sam whose eyes were twinkling with mischief, she nudged him in the ribs, not liking his meaning.

Sam continued to look out of the corner of his eye with a smirk at her reaction.

Silence fell between them again as they each became lost in their own thoughts, unaware of the demon following them. As they rounded the corner, the motel disappearing from sight, the demon closed its eyes, finding its way into their thoughts, desperate to feed.

* * *

Sam stalled, coming to a halt in the middle of the path, a nervous apprehension filling his heart. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. But what? He thought about Dean sitting alone in the motel room, waiting for them, not being able to follow. _'What if something has happened to him,'_ a niggling voice in the back of his mind whispered, _'Worse than blindness, hurt and pain. What if my vision comes true!'_

Within him, the demon smiled as Sam's conscious responded, his muscles tensing, his senses heightening. It laughed at the ease it had taken to gain control.

Alex stopped beside Sam wondering what was wrong. "Hey," she said, touching him hesitantly. "You okay?"

The demon within him, smiled at the gentle touch. It crept its way through Sam's body, through his very skin, to where Alex touched him and crept into her heart. It felt the emotions, thoughts and feeling flowing through her, feeling fear and anxiety pulsating from every atom of her being.

Travelling up to her mind, it settled itself deep within her subconscious, whispering, "You will fail them," as it looked out of her eyes at Sam who stood before her. "You will fail both him and his brother."

Her body tensed as her pulse started to race, torn between reality and the demon's lies. Its grin faltered as she began to fight back. Gently leaning in closer, it whispered, "You will fail them, just like you failed your mother."

Alex's body froze, her muscles tensing painfully as her fight began to cave in around her, her heart seizing in her chest. Her eyes sparkled with tears as she saw her mother pinned against her bedroom wall, terrified as she burst into flames.

Sam, sensing something was very wrong, spun around on the path and raced back towards the motel. He knew it, he could feel it._ 'How could he have been so stupid as to leave Dean alone again!'_

Alex shook herself out of her day dream as she watched him tear away down the walkway. Chasing after him, she shouted, "What's wrong?"

Sam didn't answer; instead he broke out into a sprint as the motel came into sight, panic pounding through every nerve ending. Something had happened, he knew it.

Slamming into the motel room door, Alex not far behind, he turned the handle hurriedly and threw it open, heaving involuntarily at the sight that lay before him.


	14. Chapter 14: Blood

OK here's the next chapter. Please R&R. All comments are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 14: - Blood.

Sam heaved involuntarily at the sight that lay before him. Alex let out a strangled cry as they stared down at the floor, Dean lying at their feet in a pool of blood.

Sam shook from head to toe, tears escaping the corners of his eyes._ 'Why did I leave him alone again,'_ he screamed inside, as Alex stood trembling next to him, tears silently streaming down her deathly pale face. Her stomach lurched as she looked at Dean's hair, matted with blood, lying face down on the floor, his cheek tilted slightly towards her.

She sank to the ground, her legs unable to take her weight any longer. Hesitantly, she moved her hand, gently caressing Dean's face, a quiet sob breaking from her chest. Sam stood behind her, the palm of his hand still pressed firmly against the door, frozen in horror, numb, but for the piercing needle of pain that shot through his heart.

Alex looked up at him desperately, silently pleading with him to move, to say or do something. Moving her hand away from Dean's cool cheek, she felt blood, his blood, running down her fingers. Her stomach lurched sickeningly as she forced herself to her feet, tugging at Sam's sleeve to turn away. She tried to wrap her arm around him, but he shrugged her off coldly, instead turning on her with a sneer. "Why didn't you protect him like I asked? Why didn't you stop this!" he hissed.

"I …I" she stammered tearfully.

"Dean phoned _you_, he trusted _you!_"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking.

* * *

Dean stood alone in the motel room as Alex closed the door behind her. Flopping down, slamming his head against the pillows, he mulled over what Sam had said, or more importantly had_ not_ said. _'Something had happened to him. Something was wrong. He hardly ever freaked out like this, having only seen him do so after having a very intense vision.'_

"A vision!" he groaned. "Why didn't I think of it sooner!" It explained everything, Sam's panic, his determined attempt to make them leave this hunt behind. _'But what had he seen to cause him to react so violently? Torture? Pain? Death? … His death?'_ He swallowed hard against the fear that bubbled up inside him at the thought of his death. _'This wasn't good. No, wasn't good didn't even begin to sum up this nightmare. And he'd gone and dragged Alex into it as well.'_

He cursed himself for being so stupid, wishing they'd never left Chicago. Dealing with Meg the queen bitch, would have been so much fun in comparison to this. Not only was he blind, but some crap excuse for a demon was screwing with his mind.

From outside, he heard thundering footsteps, which grew increasingly louder until he heard a body slam painfully against the door. Leaping to his feet, sensing something was wrong, he listened hard as Sam and Alex entered the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently, as he rushed forwards colliding painfully with the table. Cursing, he stumbled and fell, hitting his head on the corner of the table leg on the way down. His face hit the thread-bare carpet with force, stunning him, as he lay face down on the floor.

Above him he heard Alex first, letting out a muffled sob. Groaning as his temple throbbed; he forced himself to turn his head, finding Alex kneeling beside him so close that he could smell her fresh perfume.

Reaching up to her face as he heard her snuffle, he touched her cheek, feeling the damp clinging tears that hugged her skin. His hands flew over every inch of her face trying to reach her; desperate to know what was wrong.

"Is it dad? Is he in trouble?" Dean shouted in a strangled voice, a suffocating fear wrestling his spirit.

Neither responded.

"Is he hurt," he pressed in desperation.

Beside him, he felt Alex pull away from him, moving back towards the door where he assumed his brother still stood.

"Why didn't you stop this!" he heard Sam snap coldly. "Why didn't you protect him like I asked? Why didn't you stop this?"

Dean's jaw dropped open as he heard a resounding slap and a stumble, as Alex fell backwards gasping in shock. _'This wasn't Sammy,'_ a voice within him shouted. _'Sam would never be so cold, and would never hit a woman.'_ Pushing himself up off the ground, his temper and desperation rising, he shouted, "It's not her fault!"

Realising what he was saying, he thought, _'Hang on, what wasn't her fault?'_ A look of horror entered his eye. _'Hell no!'_ he thought. _'The demon's not inside him. It's supposed to be me. It was supposed to be coming after me!'_

Dean listened as Alex stuttered, "I'm sorry," feeling the blood rush to his face.

"HEY, I'M ALIVE! BLIND AS A BLOODY BAT, BUT ALIVE!" he yelled, trying to make them listen. _'Why couldn't they see him, why couldn't they hear him. This was all wrong. He didn't want to think about what they thought had happened to him in their absence._'

He was pissed off. It was one thing screwing with him, but it was another picking on Sam. This demon was poisoning them from the inside out, and be damned if he was gonna let it continue.

The demon smiled from within Sam and Alex, feeding hungrily off the fear exuding from them, enjoying the side order of amateur dramatics that garnished his meal. "And mother's say never play with your food," it laughed. "Now where's the fun in that!"

Dean looked between the pair, forgetting he couldn't see, instead imagining their faces. Thinking on his feet, he fumbled his way across the room to the kitchenette, rummaging around in the cupboards under the sink. Yanking out a bucket, he hesitated, only for a second, before filling it with cold water. "I gotta hand it to you bro," he said, glancing back at Sam, thinking back to the previous night. "You do have your moments of inspiration."

The demon, having fed enough, looked interestedly as Dean lugged the heavy bucket back across the room. With a mischievous grin, the demon relinquished its hold over the pair, as Dean, reaching out a hand to locate his brother and Alex, gripped the bucket tightly and chucked the water over them.

Sam and Alex inhaled sharply with a gasp.

"Shit … Dean," Sam stammered, the water freezing his senses as he felt himself slide out of the nightmare the demon had created. "What was that for?"

Realising what he'd just said, that his brother was standing before them alive but bleeding, his face sagged into a relieved grin. Without waiting for an answer, he reached forward, grabbing Dean into a rough affectionate hug. "How did you … you were …" he said, pointing at the ground.

"The demon," Dean smirked. "I guessed as much, but I'm very much alive and breathing, almost like my normal charming self!" he said with his broadest smile.

Alex stood in the corner, dripping silently onto the floor, a look of confusion etched across her face. Tears still twinkled in her eyes as she struggled for words. "But … what the-" she shivered, her skin crawling.

"Demon," Dean smirked. "Charming little buggers aren't they!"

Alex, still looking confused and disorientated, sighed, "Why can't we spend a normal day together."

Dean grinned. "We don't do normal."

Alex smirked. "I'd noticed."

Sam looked at her drowned appearance, noticing her red cheek and watering eye. Remembering his actions painfully, he flushed with embarrassment and shame. "I'm so sorry I hit you. I dunno what I was thinking," he said, moving towards her, taking her face in his hands.

"Don't worry about it. We've survived worse," she said, waving away his concern with a sad smile. Her hand reached up and touched her scarred neck instinctively, where back in Covesville she had almost been hung for Witchcraft, the rope cutting deep into her delicate skin. "That was a serious mind screw!" she said, looking up at them both.

"You're telling me," Dean said, letting out a hollow laugh.

Sam shook his head. "We can't stay here."

"Where d'ya suggest we go smart ass? I'm sure it can find us if we switched rooms," Dean muttered sarcastically.

Sam pursed his lips, not liking his brother's sarcastic tone.

"Dude, it was just a hallucination, I'm fine," Dean tried.

"NO! It's not just a hallucination" Sam half-yelled.

Dean, following Sam's voice, turned his head. "Well? You gonna elaborate?"

"Nothing," Sam said shortly, cursing himself for opening his big mouth.

"Sam, I might be blind but I'm not deaf and I'm certainly not stupid."

Sam looked at Alex, who nodded silently. After what had just happened, Dean needed to know the truth. Sighing, he conceded. "I had a vision."

"And?" Dean said, biting back his temper.

"Let's just say I'm not going to let it happen."

Dean reached under his pillow, pulling out a gun and clicking off the safety. "I might not be able to see you, but I sure as hell can hear you and if you don't tell me exactly what's going on, I'm gonna pump your ass so full of lead, you'll drown in your own bullshit.

Alex raised an eyebrow with a smirk. There was the old Dean, sarcastic wit and all.

Sam looked at him frustrated. "Dean … you were dead."

"What's new?" he replied lightly.

"It's not funny okay. This isn't a joke."

"It's just the demon screwing with your mind."

"NO! It was a fully fledged vision. Just like Jess, like our old house in Lawrence, like Alex and her mum."

Dean frowned, running a hand through his hair, wincing as his nail scratched the cut he'd made when falling over the table. "Well what can we do?" he said finally, trying to think of a plan.

"Get as far away from here as possible," Sam said, as though stating the obvious.

"That's not an option. This thing's killing people-"

"Yeah, just like it's doing to us!" Sam protested.

"Dude, this thing might have blinded me permanently. I'm not gonna let the son of a bitch get away with it and I'm not gonna live like this for the rest of my life, bumping into things and relying on people. I won't be able to hunt down the demon that killed mum and Jess!"

Sam flopped down onto the chair, ringing out his sopping wet T-shirt. "Dean, killing that demon isn't as important is your life," he sighed.

"IT'S MY LIFE!" Dean shouted. "And I would rather die than live it having to depend on people, as an invalid."

Silence filled the room, each looking at one another expectantly.

"Then what are we going to do?" Alex said, breaking the pregnant pause.

"Yeah Einstein, any bright ideas," Sam muttered, drawing up a blank.

Dean's face broke into a triumphant grin.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Sam said flabbergasted.

"You want us to act like hysterical women!" Alex laughed despite herself, as she reached for a towel to dry herself off.

"Sam would look good in a skirt, he's got the height to pull it off," Dean said, grinning wickedly.

Alex snorted, as Sam punched him playfully on the shoulder, the tips of his ears glowing pink.

"No, you guys have to figure out your fears and act like hysterical ten year olds to get its bloody attention. Distract the son of a bitch by pretending to be scared until we've got it right where we want it."

Sam's eyebrow rose, disappearing into his hairline as he looked at Dean, thinking he'd become severely unhinged. Breaking the silence he said, "And where exactly does me in a skirt fit into this hair-brain scheme of yours?"

"Oh I just thought it'd make a nice change having a little sister," Dean grinned, trying to lift the tension and unease that had settled over the three of them in the last few hours.

Alex smirked, biting down hard on her bottom lip, shaking with silent laughter. Sam flushed, muttering, "You've got a flaw in this plan of yours. How do we work out which fear scares us the most and how the hell do we use emm against it? What happens if the demon starts screwing with our minds again and we can't work out the difference between the demon and reality?

"Stop being such a pessimist," Dean muttered stubbornly.

Alex looked at him incredulous at his sudden change of mood.

"That demon sure fucked with your brain cells," said Sam. "Aren't you the least bit concerned about my vision."

"At least I won't see it coming."

Sam winced at Dean's bad humour, Alex shifting uncomfortably.

"God will you guys lighten up a little," Dean groaned, feeling the tension build. "It's like a morgue in here."

"It nearly was," Alex mumbled, thinking back to how she had seen Dean lying in a pool of blood on the floor thanks to the demon.

Dean shook his head in annoyance. "But it wasn't! Anyway, with you two here, it's like psychic central. Surely you can sense the thing coming!"

Sam shook his head in annoyance. Dean didn't really like to talk about his abilities if he could help it. But trust him to use them for his own gain. "I'll go and get us some food he muttered, changing the subject as his stomach groaned with hunger. If they were going to fight this demon they were gonna do it with energy. "Watch him," he muttered quietly to Alex, as he pulled on some dry clothes and headed for the door.

"I'm not a child," Dean began petulantly.

"Really? You sure act like one sometimes," Sam smirked, before closing the door behind him.


	15. Chapter 15: Dean's gonna kill me!

_Okay here's another shortie but I hope you like it. Please keep reading and reviewing. :)_

Chapter 15: - Dean's gonna kill me!

Sam climbed into the Impala, turning on the heating as he shivered against the cold. He pulled out onto the main road which led into town, hoping to find a late night supermarket or take out.

As he drove along the quiet tree-lined street, he turned on the tape player to distract himself from his unease. As the player clicked into life, Metallica blared out full blast making him jump violently as the music assaulted his ears. Taking his eyes off the road for a split second, he fiddled with the volume to lower the rock beat, and turned his attention back towards the road ahead of him. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Dean and Alex lying in the street ahead of him.

His nerves seized as he sat paralyzed watching the scene before him. As his mind raced, his body kicked into gear, his feet slamming on the brakes as he swerved to avoid them. As he careened down the slope that edged the road, he threw his arms over his head bracing for impact as the Impala crashed into an old horse chestnut.

Pushing back with his hands, as his head slammed against the steering wheel, he groaned, wincing as blood oozed from his eyebrow. Panic rose within him as his eyes darted around the car, looking out over the tall dark woods. Shaking himself, as he tried to pull it together, he turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring into life. The tires span wildly in the mud, as he floored the accelerator, trying to urge the car forwards. The tires sprayed the sticky brown sludge up the sides of the car as he slammed his fists against the steering wheel in frustration

Pushing the door open with his boot, he stumbled out, surveying the damage. "Shit!" he muttered, as he looked around him, anxiety pulsating through his chest. "Dean's gonna kill me!"

He slipped and slid his way up the sodden bank, using his hands to balance, clawing at the ground as his feet threatened to give way beneath him. He stumbled up as fast as he could, desperate to believe what he had seen was a dream, and that he was too tired to think straight. He couldn't bare the thought that they'd somehow managed to get here before him, that the demon had got to them and had left them lying in the road for him to hit.

Reaching the top, covered from head to toe in mud, he ran out into the road, looking up and down it desperately. Seeing nothing, fear clutched his heart. _'Did I dream that myself?_' he thought, _'Or was it the demon?'_ He stood staring into space, trying to separate fiction from reality becoming more and more confused and disorientated. He needed to know what had just happened. Whether Dean and Alex were okay, or whether the demon had done something to _them_, to _him._ Making up his mind, he started back towards the motel on foot, breaking into a run as dread overtook him.

Deep within him, the demon smiled, feeling its influence surging through the young man, knowing soon he wouldn't be able to make that distinction.

* * *

"Where's the food," Alex quizzed, as Sam opened the door breathlessly. Concern passed over her face as she took in his filthy appearance and bedraggled form. Making eye contact, she gave him a silent significant look, wanting to know what had happened to him.

"More importantly where's the car?" Dean jumped in "I didn't hear you pull up, and what is that smell." He scrunched up his nose as the odour seeped into his lungs.

"You guys okay?" said Sam urgently, ignoring their questions and Alex's probing look.

"All things considered, yes," Alex muttered, her face creased with growing concern as Sam looked between them rapidly.

"You didn't leave the room?" Sam pressed; sweat shining on his clammy forehead, stinging his cut.

"No. I was a good little boy," Dean mimicked sarcastically.

"You sure!" Sam continued uncertainly, ignoring Dean's cutting wit.

"Yes I'm sure. I didn't leave this god forsaking room unless I can unwittingly astral project now!" Dean scoffed, choosing to ignore the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Why?" Alex asked, rising to her feet.

"Shit," Sam muttered. "I'm cracking up."

Alex walked towards him, reaching her hand to his forehead, touching it gently, as she looked at the fresh cut critically. "What happened?" she said, as she led him to a seat and retrieved a first aid kit. Drawing out a clean cloth and antiseptic, she dabbed the wound, muttering "Sorry" as he drew in a sharp intake of breath.

Glancing sideways at Dean, who was becoming increasingly nifty at being able to track them and look at them without seeing, he said in a low whisper, "I had a little accident."

Dean flushed. "You better not have scratched my girl," he said tartly.

"The Impala's fine," he lied, thanking god his brother wouldn't be able to see the damage. It was just the small matter of getting it free from the mud and back onto the road that was going to be the problem.

* * *

"Look we need the car," Sam said, after climbing out of the shower an hour later. "Now that I've had my face mask, I'd better go back and get it." Looking at Alex, he inclined his head towards the bathroom.

"What is it?" Alex whispered as she followed him, keeping an eye on Dean as he tried to eavesdrop.

"I kinda lied," Sam muttered, his cheeks flushing pink. "It's … umm, in a ditch."

Alex's eyes widened. "Ooo you're in deep shit," she grinned, letting out a giggle. "Dean's gonna kill you."

Sam pursed his lips. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Anytime," she smiled wickedly. Walking back into the main room, she said, "I'll go with you. We can go in my car. Saves you walking and we can bring back plenty of food."

Dean's stomach groaned at the very mention of the word. "I'm starving."

"Join the club," Sam sighed. He'd not eaten anything all day and his body was beginning to feel weak from the lack of sustenance.

"I'm coming with you," Dean said, fumbling round for his shoes. "I don't trust you driving my car again."

"And what are you gonna do smart ass. Drive it blindfolded," Sam retorted.

Dean scowled, having yet again forgotten his serious lack of sight.

"Look, just stay here out of trouble for ten minutes okay? I know it's not the best idea, but it would be stupid dragging you out with us, especially given the state of things. It would be dangerous. I don't want you walking out in front of a car and dying on my ass, and I can't leave Alex here to keep an eye on things cos I need her help."

Dean reddened with annoyance. "This isn't fair. And anyway I don't need babysitting! I can look after myself!" He hated this even more than Sam and Alex could imagine. Yes his hearing had become very alert, but he was still useless to them and he felt every bit of it. He was weak and vulnerable and it was beginning to drive him insane.

Alex smiled at him sympathetically, knowing it must be killing him to be left behind, to have to rely on them to help him with everything. "We won't be long," she tried consolingly, ruffling her hand through his hair affectionately. "Maybe you could begin tearing down this horrendous pink wallpaper, and if you're a good boy, I might even give you a sponge bath." She watched, smiling, as her words took effect.

Dean sat before her grinning broadly at the offer that was too good to refuse.

"I'll hold you to that," he laughed, knowing she was trying to make him feel better, inwardly adding, 'At least I can't see this decorating disaster.'

"Yeah, I reckoned you would," she chuckled, swatting him over the head.

Sam looked relieved as his brother relaxed grudgingly, giving into the inevitable. "Stay out of trouble," he warned, looking at him pointedly.

"Hey I can't help it. Trouble usually finds me," Dean pouted, making Sam break into a grin.

"Aye, I'd noticed," Alex laughed from behind them.


	16. Chapter 16: Rock Salt

Hi guys, sorry for the wait. I didn't have internet for a few days. Hope you enjoy this chappie please R&R. :)

**Chapter 16: - Rock Salt.**

Alex jogged across to the Camaro, shivering in the rapidly cooling damp night air. Opening the door and climbing in, she started up the engine, turning the heater on full blast.

"We're in deep shit," Sam muttered, as he climbed in beside her, thinking of how he'd left the Impala.

"Nice to see you so positive," Alex said, sarcasm dripping from her lips. "I'm sure it's not that bad. We'll have it out of there in no time!"

"I wasn't just thinking about the Impala," Sam confided, thinking back to what had happened out on the road. "We've not even seen this bloody demon that we're supposed to be hunting, just been royally screwed by it."

Alex smiled. "It'll be okay. You guys are too stubborn and foolhardy to start losing battles now. You saved my life, and that wasn't exactly the easiest job you've ever done."

Sam smiled at her sadly, thinking how he'd failed to protect his mother and Jess. "Maybe, but I really don't want to worry Dean anymore. Look at the state he's in!"

Alex smiled weakly. "At least you're not alone in this. We just need to do some serious ass kicking and you'll feel a lot better."

Sam laughed weakly, his eyes showed doubt. Well at least Alex was here and he wasn't totally alone in fighting off this demon. With Dean out of action, he needed a back up and given her past record; Alex was someone he could trust. She wouldn't let him fall into a trap of self-pity without a fight; she was nearly as stubborn as he and Dean were.

* * *

The demon, who had been lurking across the parking lot, having followed Sam after its last attack, watched them leave. Slowly it crept into Sam's mind. Feeling the strength of power within him, it explored his mind, tapping into Sam's troubling visions. _'Christmas has come early,'_ it thought, as it whispered persuasively to Sam's subconscious, using Sam's power against him.

Sam's mind felt suddenly heavy as Alex turned on the radio quietly. He couldn't tell what it was, but an overpowering urge to dream fell upon him. Giving into the half-awake state, Sam glanced out of the window, watching the trees whip by.

Turning his head back towards the driver's seat, he did a double take as he saw Jess sitting beside him. Watching her, she smiled happily, talking to him with a carefree ease that had filled their lives before his visions had started the week before that fatal night.

'_But how can Jess be here,'_ he thought sluggishly, his responses slow and lethargic. '_She's gone.' _Within him, a niggling voice said, _'But is she? She's sitting here right beside you.'_ Sam smiled, taking in his girlfriend's beautiful face, a face he had come to know as well as his own. Her blue eyes were clear and sparkling, her cheeks flushed with a healthy glow, a smile playing across her lips as her long blonde hair rustled in the breeze emitting from the vent.

Alex looked at him out of the corner of her eye as his face struggled for a composed look, concealing the battle between fact and fiction that was ragging silently within.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

Sam gazed at her unfocused.

He watched as Jess spoke to him, but his ears couldn't pick up her voice. An unnatural stillness settled within him, the calm before the storm. Instead, he watched as her pretty mouth moved animatedly, but no sound came out.

Snapping out of the haze slightly, he shifted in the seat, the battle still ragging somewhere within him. _'Something wasn't right,'_ he thought. _'Jess was trying to communicate with him.' _Another stronger voice countered, saying, _'But she can't be, she's gone. Then who or what was sitting in the car next to him?'_ Panic filled his mind as his thoughts raced. _'If it wasn't Jess, it was something that looked like her. But what? A demon? A shapeshifter? My god,'_ he thought._ 'I'm sitting in a car with a monster! This wasn't good, wasn't good at all.'_

As panic bubbled up inside him, he shouted, "STOP THE CAR!"

Alex, staring at him in alarm, slammed on the brakes as Sam pushed the car door open and jumped out, crashing to the floor in a heap.

"What's wrong?" she shouted, as she threw open her door and ran round the car to him, trying to help him to his feet.

Sam, regaining his balance, pushed her away hard. "Get away from me. You're dead!"

Alex, stumbling from the shove, looked at him in confusion. _'This was a dream. This had to be a dream,' _she thought. She watched in horror as he drew out a gun loaded with silver bullets, releasing the safety.

"Shit Sam, it's me, Alex!" she said desperately, paralysed on the spot as he stalked towards her, the gun aimed at her head. _'This wasn't good, this wasn't good,'_ she thought, frozen in fear.

As he pressed the gun against her forehead, cold hatred burning in his eyes, anger rose within her, adrenaline pounding through her veins replacing the fear. _'This wasn't Sam, this was the bloody demon, and she wasn't about to roll over and die for this son of a bitch in a hurry.'_

Alex's hand flew up to her face, knocking the gun out of Sam's hand, as she staggered backwards, fear, anger, hate and love all pumping through every atom of her being, making her tremble with energy.

Sam, glancing at the gun that had shot across the road, looked up at her, sneering. Snatching a gun loaded with rock salt, from his back pocket, he aimed and shot, hitting her square in the chest.

Alex, seeing what was happening a second too late, felt the impact of the rock salt on her chest. Blown off her feet, she fell backwards stunned. Staring up at the black sky coughing, struggling to breathe, her lungs protested with every painful gasp.

Tilting her head, she saw the demon's physical form out of the corner of her eye, from where it stood half hidden in the trees lining the road. Hatred caused through her heart, her head pounding with anger and determination. She had not felt so angry since she had left Covesville, since her town had tried to kill Dean. Now she was angry. No, more than angry, she was livid. It was one thing screwing with someone's mind, but it was another to force someone to kill another.

She looked at the demon's deathly shadow, his stone grey eyes, his yellowing teeth, which seemed to glow with menace, to Sam, whose face showed utter confusion. His body rebelled against him, his mind no longer his own, his actions forced by something whose only aim was to kill.

She snapped. Focusing all her energy on Sam, who had bent over, picking up the gun loaded with silver bullets and pointing it at her, she stared at him, reaching for him, reaching past the demon trying to find him.

Looking at him with a penetrating gaze, feeling for his soul, she could sense the fierce battle raging within him, the demon fighting for ultimate control, Sam fighting for his life. Sam's spirit screamed, "Help me!" as the demon strangled him with thoughts of Jess, talking to his unwitting subconscious, making him believe the woman that stood before him was the woman he'd loved and lost nearly a year ago.

Alex, using all her energy, shouted to him, "Sam it's me, Alex. It's the demon trying to control you, don't let it do this. Force him out!"

The demon, sensing a foreign presence within Sam's tortured mind, looked round angrily trying to find her.

Alex continued as the demon lost its focus on Sam's thoughts. "I'm not Jess," she said reaching for his soul, trying to pull him free. "Jess is gone. Please don't let it hurt me. I don't want to die."

The demon, anger bubbling within it, tried to force her out of Sam's mind, trying to reassert absolute control.

"Let go of him," she shouted, as she felt the demon's concentration transfer to her, letting Sam breathe free.

The demon smiled, she was weak. Her desperate attempt wasn't a threat, it could break her easily. She was just an irritating bug that needed to be squished. Focusing on her spirit, that tried to hold its ground within Sam's mind, the demon grinned menacingly as it threw her influence within Sam off easily. Alex reeled as her conscious struggled to break free.

The demon laughed as it ejected her spirit out of Sam's mind, her body jerking violently as her spirit and physical being snapped back together forcefully.

Her head throbbed painfully as it rested against the tarmac, the gun in Sam's hand, still pointing down at her ready to fire. She racked her brains furiously as Sam struggled against the demon within him, not strong enough to break free.

She looked at the demon's physical being where it stood nestled in the trees. Focusing hard, she tried to remember how she had done it before. She focused on his enormous body, his creepy aura, his yellowing scummy teeth and his cold stony grey eyes. Breathing deeply, she swiped her hand through the air, the demon's body going flying.

As its body connected with a rock, making a sickening crunch, the demon within Sam felt a violent pain shooting through its demonic soul. Its mind froze as its spirit was ripped free from its victim's body, re-entering its own with force.

Sam, breaking free from his prison, gratefully seized back control of his body and mind.

The demon, lying injured but livid, retreated into the night, its plan in ruins.

Sam shook his head and blinked hard against the pain that reverberated round his skull. He looked down to find Alex lying at his feet, not daring to move.

"Whoa," he muttered, rubbing his temples gingerly. "That was, ehh different."

Alex smiled weakly, still surprised at her own power.

"My head feels like it's had a rock party held in it," he continued, trying to fill the awkward silence.

Alex glanced at him, still seeing the barrel of the gun pointing at her. "It was getting very crowded in there," she breathed, wincing as she moved her bruised ribs. "Emm, do you mind lowering the gun?"

"Yes, sorry," he said, dropping it to his side before kneeling down next to her, looking her over anxiously. "You okay?"

"I'll live," she grimaced, struggling to breathe as the adrenaline within her began to dissipate. Nursing her winded chest, the rock salt blast having knocked her for six, she glanced up at him. "Just promise me your not gonna jump out of a moving vehicle and go crazy on my ass again."

"I promise," Sam smiled guiltily, helping her to her feet as she clutched her ribs, standing slightly hunched over.

Groaning, she muttered, "This is the last time I ever agree to help Dean out. You guys are dangerous, you attract trouble."

Sam grinned sheepishly as Alex began to straighten up, her muscles slowly relaxing as her lungs began to recover from the blast.

* * *

Finding a gravel entry back up to the main road, half a mile ahead, Alex climbed in behind the wheel of the Impala, accelerating gently as Sam pushed hard to free it from the mud it had sunk into, Sam becoming covered in mud again.

Finally after much pushing and shoving, they managed to coax it gently back up to the main road. Alex drove it into town, Sam flowing close behind in the Camaro.

As they pulled up outside a small supermarket, Alex laughed as Sam, dripping with mud, climbed out of the driver's seat. "You're gonna have to clean my car when you've finished.

Sam smirked as he glanced down at himself, screwing up his nose as the smell of slimy mud reached his nose. Alex, laughing, took pity on him. She walked round to the trunk of the Camaro and rummaged through it, trying to find a towel.

"Here," she said, throwing it to him as she rooted round for a shirt that would fit him.

Sam gratefully wiped his face and arms clean. As he handed back the towel, pulling off his T-shirt and jacket, he shivered as the cool air bit his naked skin. He took the one offered in Alex's outstretched hand hurriedly, and yanked it over his head.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Where did you get this?" Curiosity twinkled in his eyes as he looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, it's yours," she said embarrassedly. "It was the one you gave me to wear after the beach incident in Covesville. Everything happened so fast, I forgot to give it back. I still have Dean's jeans in here somewhere."

Sam smiled as he straightened himself up. Looking half way decent, they ducked into the shop and hurriedly bought enough groceries to last them a week, neither fancying another trip like this one.

After paying, they walked out of the doors and back across the parking lot with the groceries, neither bothering to hurry as the heavens opened.

Alex feeling the rain pounding down upon her head, said, "You reckon Dean's okay?"

"I dunno," said Sam thoughtfully, as he unlocked the Camaro and threw the groceries on to the back seat. "I guess so. We'd have sensed something if he wasn't."

"How are we gonna draw this demon out into the open," Alex said, coming to a halt beside him, the rain running down her neck as her soaked hair clung to her face. Wiping it out of her eyes, she looked up in to his own earnestly.

"I'm not sure," Sam replied honestly, watching as the rain drops ran down her nose, making her tanned skin look translucent underneath the street lights. "But I know one thing. You weren't in my vision."

Glancing at him nervously, she said, "I'm not sure I like the sound of that." As she stared into the distance, she continued, "Why hasn't this thing just killed us already, like it did the others. It seems to be playing with us, toying with Dean."

Sam, his face shining as the rain cascaded down his cheeks, looked at her solemnly. "I don't know. I mean it's tried. I … I almost shot you."

"You did," Alex smirked, feeling her stiff bruised chest.

"I meant with the bullets. I don't know why it's not killed Dean though. Maybe it's because Dean's fear is more complicated or difficult to reach than most. He's seen and had to deal with things most people will never see in a lifetime."

"I can believe that," Alex laughed dryly. "He hardly ever let's his guard down, he's as closed as a book." She looked down at the ground as the rain bounced against the concrete beneath her feet. She didn't care that it was raining, that she was soaked and freezing. She felt safe, if only for a moment.

Sam glanced at her, lost in thought as he watched his breath come out in a thin wispy mist. It had been a long day and his mind was letting out a dull throb. He needed sleep. He needed this hunt to be over.

"If this demon's supposed to be going after Dean, why is it coming after us like it did?" Alex whispered, a shiver creeping into her voice.

Sam, breaking out of his silent reverie, looked at her as she began to shiver more and more violently until her whole body was trembling.

"Come on, we need to get out of this rain or we'll catch hypothermia," he smiled.

"That'd just finish our day off," Alex grimaced, as Sam shifted beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"You okay to drive back to the motel in the Impala?" he said quietly, rubbing her arm trying to warm her up.

Alex nodded as she opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. "You follow in the Camaro."

Sam smiled in agreement, moving back to where the 1967 Chevy stood. He had to admit, Alex had chosen a very nice car after getting rid of the old Jeep she used to drive. As he started the engine, it purred like a kitten.


	17. Chapter 17: Nightmares

Sorry I haven't updated in so long. Christmas and New Year are crazy. Anyway I hope you like this chapter. I know its only short but I'll try to get another chapter up before the end of the week. Please R&R.

**Chapter 17: - Nightmares.**

The demon was livid. It had underestimated Alex, thinking her weak and pathetic in comparison to itself. But she was smart. She had used her strengths to her advantage, taking it off-guard, a mistake it wasn't going to make again.

She had wounded its pride. No teenage girl was going to take it on and get away with it. Recovering from her assault on its body, it had quickly formulated a new plan and wasted no time in implementing it.

Heading back to the motel, having left Sam and Alex two miles up the road, it found Dean alone.

Dean had been trying to distract himself by checking his weapons bag. He had started work on figuring out all the weapons he owned by touch. Some he had known instinctively, his fingers gently caressing the knife he always kept beneath his pillow and the '45 he always kept tucked into the back of his jeans. His hands lingered on the shot gun Sam had used to shoot him with, back in the Roosevelt Asylum in Illinois, instinctively reaching up to touch his chest where the rock salt had smashed into him, taking his breath away.

Some of the weapons had taken a little longer to figure out, but even without his sight, he could remember every scratch and indentation that marked them, lovingly touching them as he remembered the countless times they'd saved his life. He realised he didn't need to be able to see to clean his collection, and he threw himself into the task with an urgency that almost masked his uneasy spirits.

The demon grinned as it silently climbed in through an open window, closing it too behind it. It moved silently across the room until it was standing right in front of Dean, a look of glee etched across its face.

Dean, feeling a shift in the air, looked up sharply, pulling out his favourite '45. "Is someone there!" he demanded, locking the dread that crept up his spine, away deep within him.

The demon smirking, side swiped him, knocking the gun to the floor. Dean jumped to his feet, ready for attack. He held his arms out in front of him defensively, his ears scouring the room for movement.

The demon, knowing Dean was completely helpless, stepped towards him, grabbing a fistful of his clothes. Before Dean knew what was happening he was hurled across the room, his head making sickening contact with the opposite wall.

He crumpled to the floor in a daze, his mind sluggish as he struggled to remain conscious. He groaned weakly, tasting blood as he fought off the dream-like state that threatened to engulf him. He moved his hand to his throbbing head feeling a gash across his temple and a cut across the bridge of his nose. As he squinted against the shooting pain, he fought his way ungainly to his feet, blindly trying to defend himself.

The demon watched in amusement as Dean leant heavily against the wall, trying to steady himself. Walking over to him, it struck him with such a sudden violent blow, that Dean flew off his feet, his arms flailing out as he tried to save himself. The demon looked down at his shell shocked form with delight. The anger, hate and rage, Alex had brought upon it, gave way to sheer satisfaction as it watched Dean's pain. It wanted someone to hurt, it wanted Alex to pay for what she had done. Until then, Dean would do, he would do very nicely indeed.

It closed its eyes, its influence seeping into Dean, making him relive the scene in the church all over again. It forced him to witness his brother and father lying dead in front of the altar. This time Alex was sitting beside him, ghostly pale, her lips trembling as she bit back tears, anguish contorting her delicate features.

Dean squirmed on the ground, his face scrunched up in agony as the demon brought forth his worst nightmares.

_Inside the church, Dean could see the coffins before him, Alex sniffling beside him, her hand clutched in his. She looked up at him with tearful eyes, her face as white as milk, her skin almost translucent against the long black dress she wore._

_He turned away from her, realising with dread where they were and why they were here. Turning his eyes away, he desperately blinked back the tears, refusing to shed them before her._

_Ahead of them, something shifted. He looked up nervously as Sam sat up in the coffin._

"_Sam," he choked, dropping Alex's hand as he jumped to his feet and out into the aisle. "You're not-"_

"_Why didn't you save us?" Sam butted in sharply, making Dean wince. _

_He floated above the coffin, only his spirit remaining. John appeared beside him. Dean withdrew, falling backwards off the step in shock. He lay paralysed, staring up wildly at his brother and father._

"_Why didn't you do as I asked?" John ordered coldly as Dean looked up at them from the floor. "Why didn't you protect him like I asked!"_

_Dean made to speak but was lost for words as his father and Sam looked down at him with accusatory stares._

"_You failed us," they continued in unison._

"_You never lived up to my expectations. Why couldn't you be more like your brother!"_

_Dean stared at them in terror, his heart breaking as they forced him to admit his failure. 'How could he have let this happen? How could he have let Sam die? He was a failure, something he's fought against all his life.'_

"_We never needed you, not like you needed us," Sam spat. "Dad always did what he wanted; he didn't need you to back him up. I didn't need you! I was fine at Stanford, and then you had to come back into my life and ruin everything. It's all your fault!"_

_John nodded in agreement as he watched his eldest son squirm on the ground before him, his eyes shining with a vulnerable sadness. "You've really disappointed me Dean. You should have known better."_

_Dean's breath caught in his throat, those few little words cutting deep. He could deal with being shouted at, hit or hurt. But the look of absolute disappointment sparkling in his father's crest-fallen eyes and quiet disheartened tone of voice killed him. All he'd ever wanted was to prove himself to his father, but here he was staring up at him as a failure._

"_What's your point in life," Sam snapped bitterly, breaking in to his reverie. Sam's spirit floated down so close to Dean's face that Dean let out an involuntary gasp. "To screw everything up?"_

The demon watched with joy as Dean's face twisted, his body shuddering as his mind tortured his soul. Hearing the sound of two cars pulling up outside the motel, it whispered persuasively to the young man's subconscious that all his family were gone and that life was no longer worth living.

The demon's physical form reached under the pillow of Dean's bed, drawing out the knife he kept there and placed it into Dean's lap gently, before disappearing out of sight.

* * *

Alex pulled up outside the motel and turned off the Impala's engine, Sam pulling up in the Camaro beside her. Getting out, Alex moved towards her car and began pulling out the grocery bags, putting them into Sam's outstretched hands. Locking the car, she led the way up to the room, Sam following, struggling to carry the over laden bags.

Pushing open the door as she watched him stumble up the pathway, she smiled mischievously. Turning back towards the room, the smile turned to a look of shock, her eyes widening in horror as she saw Dean sitting on the floor trembling violently, a knife in his lap.


	18. Chapter 18: Life isn't worth living

_OK slightly after the weekend I know, I hope you guys aren't mad with me. Here is the next chappie. Hope you like, please R&R._

**Chapter 18: - Life isn't worth living.**

Letting out a shout in shock, she rushed towards him, not noticing the demon, which had slipped behind the door as she had opened it, emerge. She sank to her knees clasping Dean's sweaty trembling face in her hands, looking at him desperately. Behind her, the door slammed shut in Sam's face, leaving him standing on the porch.

Turning slowly, a feeling of dread consuming her, she turned, meeting the demon's penetrating cold gaze. As it advanced on her, she shrank backwards into the corner, unable to move her eyes from the demon's.

Smiling, the demon stuck out its tongue, feeling the fear exuding from her body. Slowly, it let its influence crawl through the air and into her mind, bewitching her as Sam thundered his fists against the door outside.

Alex, entranced by its eyes, felt her mind grow hazy as the demon seized control.

"Look what you made me do to Dean," it whispered, as it leant forwards to her ear.

It was so close; she could feel its moist clammy breath upon her skin. Shuddering, she moved her head away from it, tearing her eyes from the demon's to look at Dean, seeing him slicing through the delicate skin on his wrists, grief-stricken tears sliding down his face, his spirit broken.

Alex winced, her body shaking as the demon continued whispering into her ear. It felt her body tense as fear seized control of her limbs, her breath catching in her throat as tears filled her eyes. It grinned as it watched her confident façade begin to crumble just like it had done with Dean, leaving her weak and vulnerable, totally exposed to its will.

Creeping further inside her mind, it felt for her nightmares, bringing forward a barrage of them so strong she screamed.

* * *

Sam stood stock still in surprise as the motel door slammed shut in his face.

As the rain poured down the back of his neck, soaking into his clothes, he shook his head with a smile. "Hey, come on Alex!" he tried, juggling the grocery bags as he reached for the door handle. "This isn't funny. Let me in!"

Getting no response, he sighed, putting the grocery bags aside on the floor. _'Dean had spent too much time with Alex,'_ he thought, amusedly. _'If it wasn't him pulling pranks or being a sarcastic ass, it was her.'_

Reaching forwards, he turned the handle, and leant against the door, trying to push it open. Annoyance welled up inside him as it refused to budge, the persistent rain soaking him to the bone.

"Okay, enough's enough," he snapped. "You've made your point. Now open the God damn door, before I kick it in."

Listening, he heard nothing, silence filling the air. _'Something's wrong,' _he thought, knowing he'd hear hysterical laughter by now if this was a prank.'

Tilting his head up, he ran his hands across the top of the door frame feeling for a spare key. Finding none he cursed as he leant back, looking at the door critically. As he stepped back, trying to peer through the drawn curtains, he heard a bloodcurdling scream.

"Shit!" he hissed, thundering his fists against the door. "DEAN! ALEX!"

* * *

_Alex was back in her old house in Covesville. It was dark, the day of her eighteenth birthday. She had needed to ask her mother something and had gone to her parents' room. Opening the door, she saw again her mother pinned against the wall behind the double bed, terror written across her face. She watched as she screamed, flames engulfing her body. _

Alex gagged as she watched it happen, unable to do anything to stop it. As tears escaped her, the nightmare ended and was replaced by the morning of her stepfather's death.

_She stood on the platform underneath the old oak in the town square, a noose tied around her neck, watching as Jack had tried to save her, the town stopping him and bludgeoning him to death. Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she looked down to where he lay in a pool of blood, trembling._

_Her mind went blank before the next nightmare came. She was pushed off the platform, the noose tightening against her throat cutting off her oxygen, her feet flailing desperately for the ground, her mind beginning to cloud, fogging up her senses as unconsciousness closed in around her, her body slowly shutting down._

_Finally came the nightmare of Sam and Dean almost dying because of her. Dean tied to the ground, heavy slabs balanced upon his chest as he refused to condemn her. How Elizabeth, her ancestor, had nearly forced her to kill Sam, torturing him with the memories of Jess's death._

The demon grinned as it whispered, "See, you failed to protect them all, your friends and family. You always end up causing the deaths of those closest to you. It's all your fault. Look."

Alex followed its finger seeing Dean lying slumped against the wall, his head resting on his chest, his arms hanging limply in his lap, blood soaking into his clothes. "He's dead because of you!"

Alex's eyes swam with tears as she looked at Dean, dreading what Sam would say. Guilt seeped through her as she watched flashes of memories. She saw Sam and Dean lying dead in coffins, saw them smiling at her in the surf back in Covesville, saw Dean being crushed under those wretched slabs and Sam clutching his head as his body writhed on the cliff side.

Snapping out of her memories she again looked at Dean lying beside her, his body limp. Dead. She looked from him to the bracelet on her wrist. The ring attached to it had been a gift from John Winchester to her mother nearly twenty years before, a reminder that there was always someone there for her. She glanced at the necklace that hung round her neck, a reminder of her mother's love and smiled sadly.

A glimmer of hope flashed through her as she watched the bracelet twinkle against her skin. Dean had saved her life against all the odds back in Covesville. She had in turn saved him and Sam from her ancestor Elizabeth when she had threatened to kill them all. Dean had trusted her. He had phoned her because he needed her help. He had trusted her with his life.

'_These are only memories,'_ she thought, through her tears, the haze in her mind weakening. _'That's all they are! Yes she feared failing those she loved, of losing people she cared about, but wasn't that normal? Wasn't that human nature?'_

She could feel people nearby. She could sense the tension, loss and despair that filled the room. '_What was happening? What was going on?_' she thought, as she could faintly hear pounding on the door across the room. Dean was here somewhere, she could feel it. He was hurt, broken and bleeding.

Hope flooded her senses as she realised Dean couldn't be dead, not yet! The demon hadn't won, not until Dean had bled to death. Struggling to gain control of her rebelling limbs, she crawled towards him, pressing her hands firmly against his wrists, trying to stem the flow of blood.

The demon could feel her change of spirit, a stubborn determination building within her that it wasn't able to quash. Angrily it tightened its control over Dean, who was sitting unmoving on the floor, before turning on Alex, fighting to regain control, fighting to smother her with nightmares.

Refusing to submit to its will, the demon, in bitter frustration, hauled her to her feet, dragging her away forcibly from Dean as she struggled to save his life. It brought her face so close to its own that it could feel the warmth of her breath and could smell the subtle fragrance of her perfume. It glared into her eyes, looking for a weakness. She stared back into its stone grey eyes determinedly, refusing to be intimidated.

Scowling, it threw her back against the wall, slamming her head, which took the full impact, so hard her eyes rolled. She let out a muffled cry as her head cracked open and she crumpled to the floor near Dean, her vision blurring as stars popped in front of her eyes, unconsciousness threatening to eclipse her.

The demon sneering down at her, turned back to Dean, placing a gun in his hand, muttering, "Life is not worth living."


	19. Chapter 19: I'm Your Brother!

OK, here's the next chapter. The action is kicking up another notch :). I hope you like it. Please R&R. Oh and all normal disclaimers apply. Enjoy!

**Chapter 19: - I'm Your Brother!**

Outside, Sam had kicked aside the bags of groceries, ignoring the pain that shot though his fists as he hammered them against the door. Finally throwing all caution aside, he backed up several paces and ran at the door, using his full weight to break it down.

Smashing through and charging in looking around wildly, he watched in horror as Dean looked at the gun in his hand and raised it to his temple.

Alex shook away the stars as Sam burst into the room, blood flowing freely down her face. Hearing the click of a safety of a gun being removed, she turned, her eyes widening as Dean raised a gun to his head.

Leaping at him, she grappled for the gun, clawing at his hand as she tried to break his iron clenched fist. Sam watched frozen as the pair rolled across the floor, Dean slamming Alex's head hard against the ground as she tried to force the gun free. She let out a strangled cry as her head collided with the hard floor, her skull groaning under the pressure. She struggled against him wildly, crushed beneath his weight as he pinned her down. Writhing and kicking out as she tried to break free, her face reddened with determination. Wrestling him for control, she threw a punch, her fist connecting hard with the side of his face, stunning him. Forcing her way free from his strangle hold, she tried to drag the gun away from his forehead, a gun shot piercing the air.

Sam closed his eyes instinctively as the shot rang out, his body shuddering as the vision he had had at the bar came true. The room filled with a deathly silence as everyone held their breath. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw Alex and Dean lying on the floor, their eyes closed. Dean's head lay on Alex's chest, bleeding from the temple, the gun lying abandoned next to them.

He watched as Alex opened her eyes hesitantly, groaning as her own head throbbed painfully. Looking down at Dean's face lying across her chest, her ears ringing with the gun shot, she cupped his face in her hands feeling for a pulse.

Apprehension filled the air as she struggled to find one. Seconds felt like hours as she looked up at Sam, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"He's okay," she whispered, breathing a sigh of relief. Rubbing her knuckles, she rested her head back down on the carpet. "The bullet hit the ceiling."

Sam let out an enormous sigh as the demon, who had shrunk away, seethed as yet again its plan was spoiled.

Leaping out, it jumped Sam, slamming him hard against the table and knocking him to the floor, thirsty for blood. Its overgrown finger nails clawed and gouged deeply into Sam's throat, as Sam struggled to throw him off.

Alex, pushing Dean off her gently, climbed unsteadily to her feet desperate to help whilst Sam squirmed, letting out pained breaths as the demon drew blood.

Sensing movement, the demon turned on her seeing her reach for a gun. "You're a meddlesome little witch!" it hissed, releasing its grip on Sam, the latter struggling to breathe as he sank back to the carpet, gingerly touching his bleeding throat. It advanced on her as she backed away.

"Sam, a little help would be nice," she said, drawing the demon away from him and the weapons.

The demon glinted malevolently, drawing out a large knife.

"Sam!" she exclaimed, continuing to stare into the demon's eyes, unable to tear away her gaze. "Anytime now would be good."

Her back pressed up against the wall as she ran out of room. Smiling, the demon advanced till it was only millimetres away from her. She could smell the musty odour of its clothes and its disgusting breath, her stomach turning in revulsion. _'This wasn't good,' _she thought.

The demon smiled at her, sensing fear as it plunged the knife deep into her side making her inhale sharply. It smirked as it twisted the knife making her let out a bloodcurdling scream as white hot pain shot through her body. It watched in delight as her knees buckled beneath her, her breath ragged and laboured, perspiration shining on her bleeding forehead. She involuntarily leant against it, gasping for air, her head pressed firmly against its chest, pain blurring her vision.

Sam, watching it happen as though in slow motion, struggled to regain his balance. He forced himself off the ground, his legs refusing to obey him. Using the table to steady himself, he watched in horror as the demon withdrew the knife, forcing Alex to emit another strangled cry, before readying itself to strike again.

"NO!" Sam shouted, leaping forwards and grabbing its arm, twisting it up behind its back. He pummelled his fists into its spine as he dragged it away from her and threw it to the floor.

Alex's eyes watered as shooting pain erupted up her side. She sagged against the wall weakly, struggling to control her rebelling legs.

Sam pulled out a gun as he stared down at the demon with hate. It had hurt himself, Alex and more importantly Dean. The demon grinned up at him maliciously as Dean stirred on the ground and rose to his feet, standing before them pointing a gun at Sam.

It smiled as its power seeped through Dean's body, Dean's willpower too weak to attempt fighting back.

* * *

Dean had woken, his head pounding. Seeing a gun beside him, he grabbed it knowing something wasn't right. As his eyes adjusted to the light in the room, he struggled to his feet, his eyes widening when he saw Sam lying on the floor, the demon that had killed his mother and Jess standing over him. 

'_Oh great,'_ Sam thought inwardly, as Dean released the safety, pointing it at his chest.

"Let my brother go!" he shouted at Sam, thinking he was the demon.

"DEAN! I am your brother!" Sam shouted back in frustration.

"NO YOU'RE NOT! YOU KILLED MUM AND JESS!" Dean spat, his finger twitching on the trigger, his eyes dark with murderous intent.

Alex, wheezing as she leant against the wall behind him, groaned as she clutched her throbbing side. Looking at the back of Dean's head, she focused her last reserves of energy on breathing as she moved to pick a lamp up off the table. She crept towards him, hardly daring to breathe. "I'm sorry," she whispered, as she brought it down hard on his head.

Sam stood frozen as his brother crumpled to the floor unconscious, not noticing the demon at his feet trying to escape.

"Sam!" Alex exclaimed, as it jumped through the window, showering the room with glass.

Sam cursed under his breath at his momentary lack of concentration and ran towards the window. He saw the demon reach the path, grinning back at him for a split second before it disappeared into the undergrowth, leaving Sam to stare after it.


	20. Chapter 20: Nothing

_OK here's the next chapter. Hope you like. Please R&R._

**Chapter 20: - Nothing.**

Dean groaned as he came round. "Ouch," he winced, as he raised his hand to his throbbing head.

"Sorry, but it had to be done!" Alex smiled weakly, feeling light-headed as she looked up at him picking up bits of broken lamp.

"Dude, did you really have to knock me out!"

Alex rolled her eyes, regretting it instantly as a sickening sensation flowed over her. "I didn't fancy the chance of being shot twice in one day."

Dean tried to find them with his ears. "Twice?" he asked.

"My bad," Sam flushed.

Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It God damn hurt," Alex replied, instinctively feeling her ribs tentatively. "What the hell was that stuff anyway?"

"Rock salt," Sam mumbled, hoping Dean wouldn't hear.

"Dude you shot her with rock salt!" Dean began incredulously. "Didn't you learn anything the last time you did that?"

Sam flushed as Alex looked at him questioningly.

"He shot me with rock salt in an Asylum a few months back," said Dean triumphantly, knowing Sam was embarrassed. "Hurts like hell doesn't it? Maybe when all this is over, we could take pot shots at him. See how he likes it." He grinned darkly at the thought. "Come here," he said, turning his attention back to Alex. "I'll take a look at those wounds-" He stopped before he finished, frustrated embarrassment creeping up his face as he realised he couldn't just simply take a look.

Alex, shifting uncomfortably, tried to lighten the mood. "I bet that's what you say to all the girls," she laughed, trying to keep her voice even.

Dean smiled despite himself.

Feeling the tension lift, she headed towards the bathroom, looking for a first aid box. Pulling off her T-shirt so she could bathe the knife wound, she looked in the mirror seeing her chest was bright red and was bruising.

"Nice work Sam," she said, as he walked into the room, seeing if she needed any help with the stab wound.

"Any cuts," he muttered, modestly averting his eyes from her chest.

"No, just bruising I think," she said, gently feeling the tender skin which was hot to the touch. "You're lucky."

"Sorry," he breathed, as he took over cleaning the bleeding wound on her side, making her inhale sharply.

"It's done. No need to apologise." She met his eyes with a warm smile. "Just don't do it again."

He smiled gratefully. "I promise," he said, continuing to bathe the deep gash before dabbing it dry and blowing on it.

Alex shivered as his cool breath danced upon her skin.

"We need to come up with a plan," he said, as he bandaged the wound. "Before this son of a bitch comes back and does any more damage."

Alex grimaced as Sam smoothed down the bandage, pressing on the tender skin.

"How do we kill it?" Dean said, appearing at the bathroom door.

"Well it seemed to get really pissed off when I realised that you guys were here. That I wasn't alone and that it was all a nightmare. I guess I faced up to the son of a bitch. I must have faced a fear it was using against me cos it didn't like it," Alex said, a wicked glint in her eye. "Serves the bastard right!"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, not liking the way the conversation was going. "Please don't get all chick flick on me," he groaned.

Alex shook her head smirking, though wishing she hadn't as her vision swam. "Hey, I'm not the one that tried to blow his brains out."

Dean cringed at the thought. He was going to have a lot of things to be embarrassed about by the end of this hunt and he had the feeling Sam and Alex weren't going to let him forget it.

Sam grinned as he watched Dean squirm. "Dean, whatever it makes you think, all you have to do is remember we're still here," said Sam. "The same goes for me and Alex. Whatever it makes you think, ignore it. Remember you can't see us. If you suddenly see us dead or hurt it's probably the demon's lies okay."

Dean nodded uncomfortably. "This son of a bitch has got to die."

"Agreed," Sam and Alex smiled.

"But before that," Sam continued, "I think we need to get you two to a hospital. You're gonna need stitches Alex," he said watching as blood seeped through the bandage and Alex's head continued to bleed. "You don't look so good."

"Thanks Sam," Alex muttered sarcastically. "You certainly know how to make a girl feel special."

"You've lost a lot of blood; I'm surprised you haven't passed out. You're as white as a ghost," Sam said, ignoring her sarcastic outburst.

Alex smiled, not having the energy to argue with him, instead feeling the urge to sleep.

You too Dean," Sam continued, taking his brother's hands in his, examining his slashed wrists. "You need to get checked out by a doctor. I don't want you bleeding to death on my ass. Dad wouldn't be too impressed."

"That's a stupid idea," Dean started, as if pointing out the obvious. "If the demon followed us into a hospital god knows how many people it could kill."

"Well what do you prefer Dean? Staying here and bleeding to death? I'm not going to just sit here and watch you _and_ Alex die."

"Hey, don't use me as a weapon against Dean, Sam. I'm fine," Alex said as she sat on the bath, her body shaking weakly.

"Yeah you look it," Sam muttered sarcastically.

Alex pulled a face.

"Okay," Dean conceded grudgingly, sensing Alex was hurt more than she was letting on. "At least it gives us time to figure out a plan."


	21. Chapter 21: Showdown

_Aww here's the final Chapter. I hope you've enjoyed my fic. Thanks to all those who have read and especially to those who've reviewed. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 21: Showdown.**

"Why did you discharge yourselves?" Sam snapped angrily, the following day. "The doctors said you needed continued monitoring."

"Because the damn doctors were gonna make me see the psychologist again. They thought I had tried to commit suicide."

"And they thought Dean was trying to take me with him, like I was some victim of domestic violence," Alex butted in. "I didn't fancy him being hauled up on charges of grievous bodily harm, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna sit back and let the demon come after Dean again right under our noses."

"Yeah but they said it was inadvisable to leave, especially you Alex. They said you were very lucky the knife wound didn't kill you."

"Look I'm fine. We're fine," Alex muttered, glancing at Dean. It's not exactly the first time this sort of thing has happened.

"Yeah, and we gave them a night to keep us under observation. You know I can't stand hospitals," Dean said.

Sam signed. "I just don't think it's a good idea, especially if the demon attacks and your not strong enough to defend yourselves."

"Look we're fine," Alex smiled, though a painful twinge told her otherwise, making her falter. "We just need to rest-"

"And kill this son of a bitch," Dean finished.

Sam signed, giving in despite his better judgement.

Dean smiled knowing his brother had backed down. "Right we've gotta get prepared for tonight."

* * *

The three spent the rest of the day getting ready for the night ahead. Dean took charge of cleaning and organising the weapons, Alex took charge of the food and Sam checked the room and surrounding area for possible hiding places the demon could use against them.

As the sun began to set, Dean, Alex and Sam took up their stations, switching on the television in the hope of distracting themselves from what was to come. They sat up all night, waiting, wondering, hoping it would soon be over. Finally at dawn, it happened. Alex was just dosing off, leaning against the wall, shotgun hanging limply in her hand as the demon appeared ready for the final kill.

The demon felt the cold hatred in the room, knowing its cover was blown. Reaching out, it felt for the fear that had been so carefully locked away beneath the cold facades. It reached for Alex first, bringing on a succession of nightmares that had almost ripped her apart the day before.

She could feel the demon prying deep into her thoughts, praying she could hold on to her sanity as her mind began to fog up and doubt began to creep into her mind. She felt the coldness of the demon within her that contrasted so sharply with the warmth of Sam and Dean who stood beside her. Feeling their warmth, she fought back, the demon feeling the sting of her determination.

Its anger rose as it moved on to Sam in violent frustration. It delved deep into his soul racking up all the images of Jess and her death that it could find. Sam faltered as waves of guilt swam over him, the fear of losing anyone else strangling him. Alex, beside him, squeezed his hand as she felt his willpower buckle. She wouldn't let anyone else die, not if she could help it.

Sam struggled hard as the demon used all its power of persuasion to accelerate the young man's heart rate.

Dean, also feeling his brother slipping, muttered, "Come on man; don't make me have to come in there and save your ass."

Sam felt his brother's words rather than heard them, the stubborn love he had for his brother, far outweighing the persuasive skills of the demon. Growling, he pushed hard against the demon's presence, desperately trying to fight back the painful images of Jess. Finally he yelled as he expelled it from his mind, slumping back wearily against the wall, breathing heavily.

The demon, livid by its lack of success attacked Dean's mind with such ferocity that Dean physically shook. His brain froze as the demon attacked him, his fears breaking free within him.

Alex faltered as she watched Dean's face contort and redden as the battle ragged savagely within him, wondering what images and fears the demon was using against him.

"Come on Dean," Sam whispered. "Are you my big brother or are you a big girl?" Sam grinned as Dean squeezed his hand painfully. "Kick ass," Sam smiled as his brother let out a low roar, the demon being forced back into its own body.

Grinning with triumph as perspiration trickled down his face, he pulled out the '45 that rested in his back pocket and opened fire. Alex, standing next to him, took aim with the shot gun, as Sam picked up another.

The demon confused by the total rebellion, raised its arms to its head, letting out a thundering roar as all its energy was sucked out of it, their fears ripping it apart from the inside out. The demon screeched as its physical body was destroyed, the force of the action, blowing Sam Alex and Dean off their feet as it disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Dean and Alex landed in a heap on top of one another at the other end of the room. Coughing and spluttering they looked at one another, eyebrows raised.

"That was … ehh unusual," Dean said, startled by what had happened.

"You're telling me!" Alex muttered in amazement, as she looked at the place where the demon had stood just moments before. "Did we really just do that?"

"Yup," Dean said.

Alex glanced down at him, looking mildly impressed.

Grinning up at her, he continued, "Are you gonna lie there all day?"

"Sorry," she said, flushing as she looked down at him beneath her, the warmth of his body pressed firmly against her own.

"S'okay," he smiled. His eyebrow furrowed as he reached up and touched her face. "You also promised me a sponge bath."

Alex laughed good-naturedly, as Dean's eyes widened.

"Jeez, you look like shit."

"Charming-" Alex began, as his hand grazed her cheek. Her mouth fell open as his words sank in. She stared down at him, her eyes wide, as the corners of her mouth twitched into a hesitant smile.

Dean also realising what he'd said, looked back at her in shock.

"Can you see?" she gasped, a grin replacing the timid smile.

Dean, blinking to make sure the demon wasn't screwing with him, reached up with his hands, touching her bruised face and thick curly hair in disbelief.

"Yes," he grinned excitedly, reaching up and hugging her ecstatically.

She laughed as she threw her arms round his neck. She'd never be happier to be told that she looked like shit than at this moment.

"Where's Sam," he continued, squinting round the dimly lit room, his eyes adjusting to the dawn light casting an eerie glow around them.

Both sat up looking round, finding Sam lying unconscious at the other end of the room. They turned back to one another. "You faced your fear," Alex grinned. "You believe you're always gonna be there to protect him."

"Looks like I did a bang up job," he muttered sarcastically, as they checked themselves over.

"Don't start," Alex warned. "He's alive, he'll be fine." She climbed off him and helped him up, her side groaning and buckling with pain.

Looking at each other awkwardly as they became lost in the silence that filled the room, they moved over to Sam as he started to come round.

"You okay?" Dean asked, as he helped his brother up, checking him over.

"Yeah," Sam grinned, his eyes slightly unfocused. "You?"

"Well I can see again," Dean replied, looking round in relief. "Whoa, this place looks so much better."

The three glanced around at the smashed up furniture, the pink walls and carpet covered in dust. They all laughed, the tension that had built up during the last forty eight hours vanishing in an instant.

"Damage costs are gonna be through the roof," Sam sighed, as he righted an upended chair.

"Well next time deal with your problems instead of bottling them up and having a crazy ass demon coming after you. Would be far cheaper and far less deadly," Alex grinned.

"Aww but where would the fun be in that?" Dean smiled mischievously.

"I guess you'll be crashing at mine for what's left of the night then," Alex said, ignoring Dean's sarcastic comment.

The pair grinned.

* * *

The trio finally crawled out of bed at noon later that day. After eating cereals around the table in a surreal silence, they started trying to repair some of the damage in Sam and Dean's room.

"The next time you call and wanna meet up, let it be for social reasons," Alex smirked, as she placed the lamp that had survived, back on the bedside table.

The pair laughed.

"So where you guys going next?"

"Dunno," said Sam. "Wherever we're needed I guess."

"How about you," Dean said, as he swept up the broken glass that was strewn across the carpet.

"Bob has moved back to the city. I think I'm gonna stay with him for a bit, if he'll have me."

As they finished tidying up as best they could and locked the room, Alex turned to Sam and Dean. "I guess this is goodbye again?" she said, hugging Sam. "You sorted out the damage costs with the manager?"

"Yeah," Dean smirked. "Robbed us blind."

"Stay in touch this time," she said, moving from Sam to Dean and hugging him tightly. "And stay out of trouble."

"When the hell have we ever done that?" he laughed into her shoulder, as he breathed in her fresh perfume.

Alex drew back swatting him playfully over the head. "I better go." She climbed into the Camaro, Dean closing the door behind her.

"Take care of yourself," he smiled.

"You too. Oh and tell your dad I said hi. If he needs any more help, just get him to give me a call," she grinned mischievously. Giving them one last lingering look, she pulled her head back inside the car, turning the key in the ignition.

"Bye," Sam and Dean smiled, waving as they stepped back, watching as she pulled out onto the main road and disappeared from sight.

Sam looked back at Dean and smiled.

"What?" Dean started innocently.

"Nothing," Sam laughed, making Dean flush. "Let's get out of here."

As the pair turned away, walking over to the Impala, Dean's eyes widened in horror "WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY BABY!"

"I can explain!" Sam said, pleadingly.


End file.
